


Wild Hunt

by Luckyfirerabbit



Series: Wild Hunt [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2019-10-20 15:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17625089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckyfirerabbit/pseuds/Luckyfirerabbit
Summary: **From the Lunacy AU** All Pyrrha Nikos wanted was as normal a life as a werewolf could have. But, in spite of how hard she tries, the powers that be have other ideas.





	1. Prologue

Strangely pale, almost ethereal sunlight filters through the heavy iron grate that makes up the ceiling of the desolate room. Several strings of heavy, rough metal chains hang from the bars, some slackened and barely moving by a missable current of air, while one set of links is taught and rigid with weight. Below, in torchlight and shadows, a woman is restrained with her hands kept painfully high above her head. Her wrists are bloodied and bruised from hours of resistance, and blistered from the reaction of iron to her bare skin. Sweat rolls down her pale, bare body, droplets stinging other sores and bar-shaped blemishes that almost form a pattern.

Across from her is another woman, this one much smaller in stature. Her bi-colored hair matches her bi-colored eyes and is kept in a high ponytail, not wanting to muss it while she works, no doubt. She grins sinisterly, rolling a seemingly plain looking iron spoke along her fingers. She's looking the other, older woman over, curious and contemplating. Then she half turns to look behind her, to the space between a pair of torches where a third woman waits, propped against the hewn stone wall.

Bold, burning amber eyes flicker from the dull shadows between the flames, and they gaze unyieldingly at the helpless woman; a Witch, she reminds herself. Her chest expands and contracts lazily, inhaling and exhaling through her nose in a way that sounds like a tired sigh. "Still nothing to say?"

The Witch is silent.

"You know she can do this all day?" those amber eyes flit towards the much smaller woman. "She actually enjoys it, so it isn't like you can wait for her to tire out."

There's a jerk of shaky movement, and the Witch lifts her head. Between matted strands of ghostly white hair is the weary but defiant shimmer of naturally red irises.

"Where is the Cornerstone, Salem?"

Still silent.

"Where is the Scribe?"

A loud pop of a swallow. "I. _Don't_. Know."

The amber eyes roll, exasperated, and the woman comes away from the wall and steps into the pale light. "All that work just to tell me what I don't want to hear," she shakes her head, rich, dark hair gently tossing about her shoulders. "Worst part is I know you're not lying." She eyes the sigil on the floor. "However," as she passes the smaller woman she takes the iron spoke into her own hand, starts to roll it in her fingers too. "All that means is that I'm asking the wrong questions."

Salem's hands clench into fists overhead, her eyes fixed anxiously on the bit of metal, her mind already feeling the burn of it though it has yet to touch her. She knows it's coming. She'll flinch when it comes near her face, an almost body-wide jerk that makes the dark-haired woman laugh. Her breath smells of ash and brimstone. The iron crosses Salem's forehead, pushing her messy hair from her face and leaving a raw, bright red stripe in its wake. Salem shivers in pain.

"So let me ask you something you _do_ know. Or, at the very least, you should."

Salem bites her lips, her entire face scrunching up as the iron spoke is pressed slow and heavy into her bare stomach, the burning sensation mounting higher and higher until she knows its glowing white as it blackens her skin. She breaks into a fresh sweat and shakes.

"Tell me where I can find an Oracle." and when Salem doesn't answer quickly enough, she just adds to the pressure behind her clenched fist, leaning in and pressing her cool forehead to the Witch's wet and heated one. "Surely you know _one._ Some of you broom-riders carry them around in your _purse_ , for gods' sakes."

Salem whimpers, trying to focus and breathe and not scream.

"Come on," she goads softly, twisting the spoke, the Witch half buckling because she can't drop to her knees.

Salem tastes the acrid shock of blood in her mouth, her lips throbbing under the cut of her teeth. Now she's shaking so hard the links of iron rattle above her. There's the faint hiss of cooking flesh. She shakes her head, defiant though wordless.

"Just a name, that's all I need." Now she's twisting it back and forth, grinding it in until she's fairly certain she feels the firm resistance of bone somewhere.

Still trembling, Salem slumps against her, her forehead slipping to the other woman's shoulder as a muffled scream grinds its way out of her chest.

"This is only going to get worse, I can assure you, so just tell me." and she smiles, golden eyes glowing, as the Witch sobs against her.

"Y-you...you're going to fail. You'll be destroyed if you pursue this."

"That's not up to you," she chuckles softly, "you're not that kind of Witch. _Now give me a name_."

"You won't...be banished back to that-" another scream reigned in behind her teeth and painfully tight jaw, "th-that hellscape you came from. You...will _cease_ . _To be_."

"If I fail, then I might as well." Her grin cuts wider, showing fangs. "This is the _last_ time I will ask _nicely_ ." She pushes a little harder, something giving beneath her grip, and then she can smell flesh and blood burning. "A _name_ , please."

Salem is only able to hold out for another moment, all the while squirming and sobbing at the wretched pain of hot iron in her stomach. Finally she sputters, half choking. "Scarletina," she heaves jaggedly, "S-Scarletina."

Relenting, the golden eyed creature under the guise of a woman pulls back and sighs in contentment. "Thank you." She turns away, handing the bit of metal back to her accomplice as she passes. "Give her a moment to catch her breath, then, by all means, do as you please. I have work to do."

" _The Wild Hunt will find you, Cinder_!" Salem cries, pulling against her restraints like it's a last, desperate effort.

"They will certainly try."

 

_(II)_

Jaune and Pyrrha sit across from each other at the table, mostly quiet as she watches him scarf down his breakfast -he needs to hurry or he'll be late for work. Pyrrha knows staring is rude, but she can't help herself. She's found herself staring a lot lately, actually, staring and thinking about notions that have been tickling her mind for over a week now. She wonders whether or not she should talk to him about them. She decides again not to, instead touching his foot with hers and rubbing them together beneath table. With stuffed cheeks he raises his eyes and smiles at her, returning the gesture gently as he's wearing boots and she's barefooted.

His eyes flit down for a brief second, then he swallows. "You okay? You're not eating."

"Hm? Oh," she laughs to herself, "I'm fine. Just distracted I guess." Then she finally picks up her fork and uses it, pushing a clump of scrambled egg around her plate before scooping it up.

"Are you worried about your last turning? I mean...it's been a little weird for a while."

"Not really, no. Mother says it can change over time." she feels a little flutter in her chest as she comes up with a white lie. "Maybe it means I'm close to being able to control it."

"Wouldn't that be something?" he gives his wife a particular grin and then goes back to the last of his food. In the next moment he stands up and carries his soiled dishes to the sink, rinsing them off before coming back to the table. "But you're sure you're okay? I can stay home if you need me,"

"I'll be fine, I promise. Now give me a kiss." She gently demands, lifting her chin in preparation for his swift response. She cups the back of his neck with one hand to hold him there for an extended few seconds, just to get the scent and taste of him fresh in her head, and then releases him. Jaune gives her one last peck on the forehead before heading out of the kitchen towards the front door. Pyrrha listens for the bright jingle of keys and then the door opening and closing, then breathes a sigh of some sort of relief when she hears his truck rumble to life and start down the gravel path towards the main road.

Pyrrha never liked being home by herself, doubly so since she and Jaune married and became proper mates. It left her anxious and feeling exposed, but it's a little different today; today it's the anxiety of possibly keeping a secret. After a moment she shakes her head and pushes the jitters down, finishing her food before hurrying upstairs to prep herself for the day. Dressed and groomed and jittery all over again she comes back downstairs, taking enough time to write and pin a short note on the refrigerator for Ren and Nora should they get home before she does. As she sticks the note to the appliance she hears the dull roar of an engine in the driveway, a bigger engine than the one in Jaune's little truck.

Heading out the front door she sees the sunlight glinting off the massive, silver SUV sitting on the patch of gravel in front of the house. Pyrrha quickly locks the door and starts towards the vehicle, the driver offering the courtesy of reaching across the front seat and opening the passenger door for her. She has to use the oh-crap-strap over the door to pull herself into the seat.

"Thanks for coming to pick me up, Billy."

"Of course." the response is a smooth grunt as the tall, stocky Bison Faunus adjusts their posture. They push their sleeves a little higher, showing off more of the nests of tattoos on their meaty forearms before putting the car in gear and starting to back up. "Seat belt."

"Oh, right." she chuckles and fumbles with the strap, eventually pulling it across her lap and chest to click into place. "So how have you been?"

There's a little jerk as the gears shift again and Billy hits the gas. "Alright, I guess, not too busy. Tag and I have been getting more time together."

"Ooh, I bet _she's_ happy about that."

"So am I." they chuckle, a smooth, low registered sound. "I'm really thinking about asking her to marry me."

"You should." no hesitation. She had known Billy for years, they had been her Handler when she first moved to Vale, and she knew damn good and well how much they fancied the Gatekeeper they often shadowed during their primary work as a Shaman. "I bet she'd say yes."

"I feel the same, honestly, it just hasn't felt like the right time. If that makes any sense." they pause the car just at the edge of the highway, taking the time to look both ways and prod the spring-mounted buffalo fetish glued to the dashboard before starting down the main road.

"Jaune said the same thing, sort of." she remembers that impromptu, almost inappropriate proposal; naked and worried, not even really a question. "He didn't know how to ask."

"Sounds silly. Just ask."

"Could say the same about you." she grins and side-eyes them, to which she only receives a snort, making her giggle.

"Well, enough about me," they clear their throat, using the press of their large palm to turn the wheel. "How are the two of you doing? Jaune still okay?"

She nods and starts into a cliffs notes update of how the marriage has been and how Jaune still has the mark of a Luck Dragon emblazoned on his shoulder for a still unknown reason. The catching up passes between them for most of the ride, until they get near the heart of Vale proper. It's an area Pyrrha had only been a few times, not nearly often enough to readily know where she is or how far it is to the nearest familiar landmark. Billy, on the other hand, makes this commute, at the very least, every week. The Schnee Cabal is their main contractor and they own a quarter of the city, including the Nicholas Schnee Specialties Clinic where the Shaman parks their vehicle.

"You want me to come in with you?"

"I'm a big girl, I think I can handle it. I don't know how long the appointment will take, though."

"That's okay. Tag likes for me to text her when I'm not busy, so I'll be occupied."

"Alright, tell her I said hello."

"Will do."

Pyrrha can feel the jitters crawling back up from the soles of her feet as she walks into the clinic and up to the reception counter. Her hand shakes as she signs in, and she stutters when she thanks the young lady behind the counter before blushing and going to sit in the lobby. Then she jumps a little bit when the nurse calls on her, apologizing as the young man leads her back into the hallway and to an empty exam room to wait a while longer. When the doctor comes in they exchange the typical pleasantries and questions, then the less than typical ones as the topic leans towards the supernatural. The doctor inquires to Pyrrha's heat cycles and their effects on her husband, and also to the nature of her changes during the full moon, and she just nods as Pyrrha answers and explains it to the older woman's satisfaction. Pyrrha doesn't like that she can't read the doctor's response, but accepts it, just as she accepts and yields to a blood test.

The doctor said the results only take ten minutes, but it feels like an eternity passes between between Pyrrha getting her finger pricked and the older woman telling her that it's positive. Pyrrha's expression stretches, lights up. "It is? Really?"

"Yes, ma'am. Congratulations."

After being told so many times how unlikely it was, that it might even be impossible because Jaune was human...gods above. She takes a breath, a quick one that fills her lungs to capacity as if she means to shout, but she reigns it in at the last second. Her face reddens and she starts to tear up a little, laughing unevenly instead. "W-wow, I...I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll make an appointment to come back and see me in about nine weeks. By then we should be able to see how far along you are and where to go from there."

"Oh, o-okay, of course."

Everything after that is mostly a harried blur of things and noises that she'll only partly remember. The clearest part of the next few hours is how she feels -elated, terrified, a mess of everything really, and that her hands keep touching her belly. She misses most of the conversations she has with anyone, completely forgets about Billy's little worry over Tag never texting them back. She's fairly certain she said something to them in regards to it, but has no way of being sure. Billy will stay when they get back to the house, reminding Pyrrha that she had at some point invited them to.

It's not until Jaune gets home that evening that everything seems to settle back into place. He comes through the door, keys jingling like they had that morning, and Pyrrha all but jumps up from her seat to jog across the living room to greet him. They hug and kiss and exchange a few muffled words, nothing nearly as important as what she tells him next.

"What?" he wasn't sure he heard her correctly, never mind how they're nose to nose. "What did you say?"

She laughs, tearing up again like she had earlier. "I'm pregnant." His eyes are wide and a brighter blue than she's ever seen and she knows he's feeling the same thing she is. "We did it."

"B-but," he pants a little, "everybody told us we might not,"

"But we _did_."

"Oh my god." and he dissolves into a babbling fit of half formed sentences broken up by kisses and laughter and they're both just a mess and don't care that Billy and Ren and Nora are just watching them make a spectacle of themselves. For the Kirin and the Elemental, it's actually quite cute to see them like this.

And they'll remember the moment with a bitter sweetness five weeks later, when Pyrrha miscarries.

 

_(III)_

Cinder strides comfortably through a veil of silk curtains into the Oracle's parlor, taking a half interested look around the small room and its brown and bronze finery. Heady incense hangs in the still air though there is no visible smoke, the Oracle's last client likely hours gone now. She recognizes some of the odors, flinches at them as they bristle her supernatural senses and try to force her to remember things she'd sooner not. In front of her is a low laying and round table, a stone bowl full of ashes in the middle of it, surrounded by plump cushions -common furniture for readings of all kinds. Cinder settles down on one, resting on her hip with her elbow on the table. She only has to wait for a few moments, having begun drumming her fingertips with impatience by the time the Oracle arrives.

Oracles are always women, and their abilities tend to favor Faunus blood, meaning that Cinder shows no surprise at the long, auburn rabbit ears that sit atop the young woman's head. She watches her and the Sentinel that lingers just over her shoulder, taking note of the tattoos on the seemingly human woman's face -they look like crosshairs. They briefly whisper to each other before the Sentinel steps out of sight, and then the Oracle sits across from Cinder.

Before a single word passes between them, Cinder passes forward a neat stack of Lien bills, sliding them across the smooth surface of the table and not removing her hand from it until the Oracle means to take it. The Faunus won't count the money, certain it is the proper amount -surely she would know if a potential client would try to stiff her. She just cradles the stack in her palms that rest in her lap.

"So what would you have me look into?" the Faunus has a distinct Managerine accent.

"You don't already know?" Cinder smirks.

The Oracle chuckles, her ears tilting back. "That's not quite how this works."

"I know, but I just had to ask, just this once. Needed a good laugh, you understand." a light exhale. "Tell me where the Cornerstone is, Miss Scarletina."

Velvet straightens, every last trace of the gentle smile wiped clear of her face as her ears sink further back. She blinks once, twice, then she appears to try and respond. She sputters, confusion knitting her tender brow as nothing cohesive forms.

"You can't lie to me." and her smirk cuts into a full smile, those telling fangs of hers exposed. She had put sigils on several of the bills, hedging her bets against half truths and open ended answers, among other things. "Now, I would like my reading, please."

A certain pallor has come over the Oracle's face, but, ultimately, so does resignation. The old laws demanded she continue; she had accepted payment, so she was obligated to render a service. Resignation is tainted with quiet resentment as Velvet slides the money into a little box under the table, retrieving a purse of incense in the same turn. She places a handful of it into the stone bowl between them.

"Need a light?" Cinder offers, not waiting for an answer as she leans forward and softly snaps her fingers, a spark flying from the point of impact and landing on the incense. Smoke immediately begins to curl and spiral upward.

Glaring at Cinder all the while, Velvet pulls the bowl of embers closer, leaning forward until it's just beneath her so the smoke curls under her chin. Eventually she'll shut her eyes and start breathing in the fumes, deep draws of it disappearing into flared nostrils in rhythmic lungfuls. A dull static begins to crackle in the small space, the air itself seeming to gain some weight as the energy shifts and mounts. Cinder can feel the small hairs on her body starting to bristle, she shivers but subdues any physical reaction to it.

Velvet's ears suddenly lilt forward, move independently of each other in no certain patter for a moment, then prick straight up and stock still. The air shifts again, the static popping, and then the Oracle's eyes open to reveal they've become a solid white. Cinder just smiles and waits. A half hour will pass before the trance ends, Velvet suddenly blinking back into awareness and to the reality of heavy droplets of blood falling from her nose and snuffing the few remaining embers in the bowl. She pants, seemingly exhausted, and softly calls to her Sentinel who is quick to respond. She already has a bottle of water waiting for her charge, handing it over before fussing over the crimson streaks around her mouth. Velvet has to convince her to leave again, assuring her protector that she's more than fine. She obeys, but not before eying Cinder with obvious disapproval and suspicion, to which Cinder just grins like a jackass.

"So what did you see?" Cinder purrs.

"I saw what you're after...and what you've done."

"Oh?" she doesn't appear the least bit worried, just intrigued.

"You murdered Salem Ashita."

"And?"

"And she was right. The Wild Hunt _will_ find you."

"Certainly not through _you_ ," Oracles are sworn to neutrality, after all.

"And so will Salem's sisters."

A little flinch, just barely there at the corner of her mouth. "Just tell me what you saw."

"I saw that silver is your least favorite color."

"Just how lucky are rabbit ears? Are they as good as feet?" Cinder can feel the snap of brimstone in her throat, and she knows the gold of her eyes is beginning to burn as her patience wanes.

Velvet scowls, her ears tilting back, almost out of sight behind her head. Beneath the table she has a hand around each ankle, feeling a thick scar that goes half way around one of them. "I saw the prince in his tower."

"...What? That's all?" Cinder's well acquainted with Oracle's speaking in riddles and twisted truths, but this is borderline ridiculous.

Velvet bites her tongue. Some truth sigils can be tricked by lying through omission, but she finds that she isn't so lucky as a twisting pain starts tightening her chest. A slow forming wince tightens her face before she is compelled to continue. "The prince is in his tower, minding his inheritance. Protecting mother's secret."

For a long, tense moment, Cinder regards the Oracle with seething scrutiny, amber eyes thin and glistening as she thinks. Velvet meets her gaze with a concern that's well hidden, but not completely so. "That's everything I could see about the Cornerstone, I swear."

"I believe you." Cinder's response is almost a hiss. She wants to kill the Faunus for being so damn useless, but knows better. Murdering an Oracle would have the Wild Hunt waiting for her outside.

Then Velvet's eyes sharpen as well, matching her client's. "I also saw your death."

"I didn't ask about that."

"But you like stuff for free, right? I mean, who doesn't?" Velvet smirks now, watching Cinder stand up.

"I won't kill you, but I'll happily cut out your tongue,"

" _Before_ Coco tears you apart? No one's that fast." A light chuckle.

"Then choke on your fortune." Cinder bites, hoping to turn and leave before another word passes between them. Still, she doesn't move fast enough to miss Velvet's warning to watch out for wolves in the future.

 

_(IV)_

Pyrrha carefully navigates around the kitchen island while holding the largest coffee mug she had ever seen in both hands, handing it off to Billy once they are within arm's length of each other. They thank her with a nod and a grunt, no eye contact, and she accepts with the same. They're both depressed and, while it's for entirely different reasons, they sought each other out for comfort; a learned behavior from when Billy was her Handler and the newly independent Alpha Female felt touch starved and lonely. The Faunus watches Pyrrha make her own cup of something warm and soothing before she comes to sit beside them. For a while they're alone together, still saying nothing.

Jaune was away attending his aunt's funeral. Pyrrha was surprised to hear the event was for immediate family only, neither she nor any of Jaune's sisters' partners could attend. Though part of her is glad, she wasn't of the mind to see her mother-in-law, much less be surrounded by half-acquaintances and death all day. She hasn't been of the mind for much socialization at all since her miscarriage -a behavior very unusual for a werewolf.

As for Billy, Tag has been officially missing for almost six months and what few leads they had in the search had gone cold. They couldn't stand to be home alone and they needed to be doing something else, ideally getting some much needed sleep. But they settle for this quiet company instead, because sleeping is too much like doing nothing.

There's no knowing for certain how long they're like that before the heavy stillness of the kitchen is broken up by motion at the back door. Ren lets himself in, the lingering shimmers of his glamor just fading as he acknowledges the two other occupants in the space. He and Billy have a quick exchange in a language Pyrrha doesn't understand, whereas she's content to just offer her housemate a weak smile in greeting.

"May I join you?" he asks, his tone naturally soft.

"Of course." Pyrrha tries to sound happy for the extra company, but she knows that he knows she's fibbing her ass off. "There's still hot water for tea if you want."

"Thank you." And as he goes he mentally takes measure of the tension in the room. He is very sensitive to it, his kind is just that way, though he's certain he wouldn't have to be in this case. He doesn't allow himself to make too much noise while he searches for his favorite teacup, and all the while he reaches out with a touch of magic to try and understand what the others are feeling. Billy is more than obvious, they've never hidden from his senses and now is no different. Pyrrha, on the other hand, makes him pause in the middle of pouring water into his cup.

Ren eventually joins them at the island, sitting across from them and briefly mimicking their positions, hunched over his cup with his chin dipped near his chest. When he lifts his head he's looking at Pyrrha, and then it inches left to right, curious in a dog like way, then...

"You're pregnant again."

Pyrrha visibly winces, her brow furrowing. She takes a deep breath and takes a mouthful of coffee to try and suppress the urge to cry. "I...I had a feeling."

"I thought...you and Jaune weren't trying anymore?"

"The condom broke." she laments softly, her head dropping into one palm.

"Have you told him yet?" Billy asks, caution lacing the question.

"No, I've been afraid to. I don't want to get his hopes up...or maybe I think I'll jinx myself."

The other two just nod, knowing something as ridiculous sounding as that is actually more likely than most think.

"You're not going to try and hide it from him, are you?"

"I...I don't know." and she resists another urge, this one to say more, to talk about her suspicions of already having miscarried a second time. She hadn't even felt the change like the first time, but a toilet full of blood is terribly telling for a supernatural that doesn't menstruate like humans.

"...You're debating whether or not to keep it?" Ren queries plainly.

Pyrrha weighs the question, hating the implications behind it almost as much as she hates how easily he asked. Kirin can be that way sometimes, Ren particularly so, but she knows he doesn't mean it in a bad way. He's just...him. "I don't...I'm not sure I could handle that heartbreak again." Because the physical toll of miscarriage is nothing for an Alpha Female, comparatively, but the emotional cost is a whole other matter. "But...I want to be happy. I want _us_ to be _happy_ ,"

"Of course you do, but sometimes you have to settle for less than ideal." Ren's cherry blossom eyes slide to Billy when they grunt in bitter agreement. "You need to draw a line somewhere, isn't that how the saying goes?"

Pyrrha nods, taking another deep breath and another deep drag from her mug. "...This will be the last time. After this...well, we'll see what happens and go from there."

Ren reaches across the varnished wood of the island and slides his hand over hers, trying his best to be reassuring yet uncertain if he's successful.

 

_(V)_

Four humanoid figures materialize from a portal of crimson and shadow; two are a woman and a man of comparable build, pitch black hair and haunting red irises that are just visible through the slits in their bone white masks. The features of the other two are completely concealed behind matching masks and heavy cloth hoods. The agents of the Wild Hunt emerge from the aether to a scene of blood and blackened stone, the fleeting stench of scorching stirred by the erratic bursts of air that are common at these heights. Strewn about the floor are the remains of the once robust chamber walls, countless hewn bricks now crushed and fractured and still gently smoking. When they realize that whatever battle had been raging here is long since over, they relax and loosen their grips on their mostly concealed host of weapons.

The woman starts across the floor, removing her mask and tucking it to her side as she scans the platform from one side to the other. She sniffs the air intentionally, trying to learn what she can and couple it with whatever visual evidence she can gather at the moment. Though it would only matter so much once her eyes fell on the body propped against what was left of a wall. It's headless, though it isn't actually missing; the man's head rests between his thighs, his hands neatly folded atop the crown of silvery hair. And beside the posed corpse is the ornate, gilded frame of a great mirror, the obsidian glass shattered much like the stone walls, but in a way that suggests it was blown out from the far side. Which, at a glance, seems impossible since the only thing behind the glass is stone.

She kneels between the corpse's knees, head cocking slowly to the side as she studies the remains a little closer. She sighs.

"It could take _years_ for him to come back from this." Comes a gruff shrug from over her shoulder.

"Years enough for the perpetrator to get away with it." she replies flatly. "Whoever it was knew exactly what they were after _and_ how to get it." Because not just anyone comes here, to this plane of existence and this tower beneath a silver sun, to see this man. Jarreth Ozpin. Oz to his friends, and High Minister to everyone else.

"Raven,"

"If that mirror is broken...that means the Cornerstone is gone." no dismay, no fear, only a scowl compliments her neutral tone. Then her brow furrows a little harder as she notices something. "...They took his glasses."

"What?"

"Unless they're lying around here somewhere." she concludes, looking up at her twin brother with hints of her scowl remaining. "Start looking, Qrow, check _everywhere_ , including the courtyard. Get the locals involved if you have to, whatever it takes. And find a Gatekeeper for this plane so it can be closed off."

He nods. "What about you?"

"I'm going back to Agartha, we need to mobilize the other planes as soon as possible." Raven stands in a graceful snap of motion, half turning to gesture to the other Hunters. They're quick to answer, gathering up Ozpin's remains with as much respect for the dead as they can. "I'll send support for you."

Another curt nod. "Happy hunting, sister."

"Happy hunting." and with a flitting gesture of her hand and portal opens up and she disappears inside.

 

_(VI)_

Jaune feels his heart pounding against his ribs and hears the blood in his ears, he's shaking from head to toe with nerves and has been since he got the phone call at work nearly an hour ago. How he had managed to drive here without incident is nothing short of a miracle. His hands all but juggle his keys as a he walks the pavement to the supernatural-friendly hospital entrance, dropping them a few times before resolutely shoving them in his pocket where they belong. Jaune is walking a little too fast, almost smacking right into the automatic doors before they open all the way, and strolls right through the place like he knows exactly where he's going. Which he really doesn't.

"E-excuse me, sir? Sir?"

Jaune's head whips around but his body doesn't follow, but, luckily, he stops before bowling over an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair. "Me?"

"Yes, sir," the receptionist is visibly relieved, "can I help you?"

For a brief second his jaw just hangs and he stares, seemingly lost. Then he blinks and shakes his head, laughing sheepishly to himself. "Oh, yeah, sorry. M-my wife," his hands fumble as he starts towards the reception counter, "baby," he blurts out.

"Name?"

"Nikos. Pyrrha. Pyrrha Nikos, I mean,"

She's typing away at a terminal and smiles with a knowing nod. "Ah yes, here she is. Come with me, I'll have to escort you."

"Oh, okay."

Jaune's hands still fuss together in front of him, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor in front of him just so he has something to focus on. A question is on repeat in his head; he's wondering why he would need an escort when she could have just given him directions -he's not so blitzed out on nerves that he couldn't do something as simple as that. But then, as the pair of them round a corner, he sees very well the bright neon sheet of paper on the heavy double doors that reads **"No Male/Male identifying persons beyond this point"** in big, bold lettering.

He's stuttering again. "B-but it-,"

"It's fine for you, you're the father."

The word settled in his brain and then dropped into his stomach. _Gods have mercy. **Father**_. He feels a little faint all of a sudden.

The corridor beyond the doors is strangely quiet, most of the doors on either side of it shut with no light coming through the small windows in them. They pass a lone security officer on her rounds before stopping, the receptionist stepping aside as she opens a door and gestures for him to go in. "Congratulations," she says softly before pulling the door closed again.

Inside the amber tinted shadows of the dimly lit room, Jaune finds himself presently stuck where he stands. His hands have stopped fussing, his mind no longer races or cares about the sign outside, and all he can care to acknowledge is his wife's presence. There she is, propped up a little in the bed and only covered to her navel. It's too dark for his human eyes to see the remains of sweat dappling her skin, or for him to see just how messy her hair is. His gaze focuses on her face, how soft it is with sleep, because a part of him is just too shocked and afraid to look at the newborns yet.

 _Twins_. His heart throbs.

Jaune feels himself jump a little as he hears the deep breath Pyrrha takes in through flared nostrils, and again when she looks at him and he sees the flash of eyeshine; her eyes are only like that when it's nearing the full moon. Then ease washes over him in a warm wave when she smiles. "Hey," he exhales quietly, almost too quiet, but he knows she'll still hear him.

"Hello again." she replies, her voice raspy and threaded with exhaustion.

"Sorry I couldn't get here sooner."

"It's all right," she shakes her head slowly, "you probably wouldn't have been let in here anyway." From the moment she had been admitted until after the delivery, it had been Shamans only, a safety measure often observed when werewolves were involved since it wasn't uncommon for them to turn under the physical strain of childbirth. Same reason why it was _persona non grata_ for men; an Alpha Female in labor would instinctively - _aggressively_ \- react to _any_ male that wasn't her mate.

"Oh. Okay. So how are you doing?"

"I was great after the epidural." She laughs, a puff of air between her lips. "But I'll be even better once you're close to me."

Jaune is quick to respond, so quick he almost trips over his own feet in his rush to her side. With a tilt of her head Pyrrha directs him to the far side of the bed, showing him there's plenty of room to join her. Carefully, so carefully, he works himself up, and then inches as close to her as possible. Now he can see just how tired she is, that her eyes are dim with fatigue but full of brilliant color like they are during the lunar cycle. She has the makings of claws and fangs too. She'll press and nuzzle his forehead with hers once he's in reach, taking in his scent and feeling immediate comfort as it fills her head.

"Take your shirt off." and even though she isn't looking at him directly, she knows there's confusion on his face. "Skin contact is important for them right now."

"Oh, okay." He complies, swallowing hard when his nerves start up again. "Do...do you want me to take one?"

Pyrrha smiles and nods, waiting until he opens his arms to her. "I think Rahne is finished nursing." at least she hopes so, her breasts are sore. Pyrrha offers her husband gentle direction as he takes up the infant, marveling at her as he holds her with both hands for a brief moment before laying her against his chest. The baby stirs, grunts, and then settles, her tiny fists closing unconsciously in the curls of soft blond chest hair. Without a second thought Jaune starts to stroke the baby's back, much like he would do for his wife.

"Wow." he breathes, barely a whisper. " _Wow_. And they're both healthy?"

"They are. In fact, Tema is the biggest baby on the hospital's record."

"She takes after her Aunt Nessa." Jaune chuckles, then a little harder, "oh no, she takes after her Aunt Nessa."

"As long as she didn't inherit her appetite, I think we'll be fine." Pyrrha lets her head rest on his shoulder, never mind that it isn't the most comfortable position; she needs his touch just as much as the twins do right now.

Jaune feels a velvety softness under his fingertips, only just now able to acknowledge it as something out of place. "What...is this fur?"

Pyrrha's breath hitches, her brow furrowing for all of a second. "...Yes."

"...That means,"

"They're just like me."

"Well, I figured that out already, I mean they're both redheads." he kisses the top of her head.

"I meant in other ways."

"I know what you meant." another kiss, this one he hopes does something to reassure her. "But you can say it out loud, you know? You can tell me my daughters are werewolves, I'll still love them."

Pyrrha's quiet, not knowing how to respond and much too tired to try and think of something.

"You did it, Pyrrha. We have our own little pack now." Jaune takes a deep breath, seeming to nestle a little deeper into the warm comfort he's found himself surrounded by. "I love you."

"We did it. And I love you too."

 

 

Author's Note:  I like where this is going so far, and I'm happy to say that this isn't going to be half the monster Embers was. I don't think I have anything like that left in me for the time being, which is far from a complaint. Comments and critiques are more than welcome, and I appreciate you joining me for another heaping helping of arkos. For those of you making your first visit, I highly suggest you take some time to read "Lunacy" which this story is directly tied into. This story comes after the events in that, so it might help some of you with some elements I've presented so far. In any case, hope you enjoy.

 


	2. Chapter 1

When she isn't abroad visiting her small assemblage of temples, or enjoying her large collections of paintings and books and baubles, or spending time with her father and sister or covey of lovers, Yang Xiaolong enjoys a good time wherever it hides. Depending on the Luck Dragon's mood, she could be found almost anywhere from formal dinners to sporting events to a concert where the music is loud enough to make a human's ears bleed. Tonight she strolls the streets of downtown Vale proper under an Autumn moon, the supernatural quarter of course, taking in the rich aroma of street food and trying to decide what sort of trouble she feels up for. She gets a bowl of stir fried noodles to help her decide, rubbing a little luck on the vendor to help him meet his bottom line because it's not his fault that folks don't trust Wutai style food from a Vacuo looking man. With her snack consumed and the container in a waste bin, Yang wipes her hands and pauses to look up and down the steadily busier avenue. Nothing in particular piques her interest, so she decides to go with an old standby; nothing beats a night at Junior's. Except maybe a night at the Belladonna residence, but that was for a different breed of fun altogether.

A couple of blocks down she finds the usual line that she never has to wait in, comfortably and confidently making her way to the entrance where by some stroke of luck the guy at the door has her name on the list. She tips him because she can and walks right in. First thing you notice about Junior's is how big the place is on the inside; plenty of room for all the beautiful people that come here to dance and drink and revel. Yang often jokes how this place is like a temple to her all its own, having everything she ever wanted to imbibe in or be surrounded by. As she makes her way smoothly through the crowd she immediately spots several men and women she would love to have a drink or two with, and that just makes her all the more eager to reach the bar, where there just so happens to be an open seat.

"You grace us with your presence, Miss Xiaolong," Junior greets her with a playfully mocking tone from the other side of the counter. "Usual?"

"In a minute, I just want something cold and wet to start off. Street food makes me thirsty." she props herself on her elbows, leaning atop the bar. "Hey...where's the music? Speakers blown again?"

"Nah," Junior passes her a highball glass with ice water and a split strawberry in it. "I've started doing live sets on weekends. So far it's been pretty good, you just popped in during the lull."

"Oh, cool." she downs the drink quickly, almost too quickly as it threatens to give her brain freeze. Luckily it doesn't. "Who's up next?"

The big man's dark brows knit, curious, and he leans over to look beneath the bar. "Cinder Fall."

"Nice stage name." Yang chuckles, dismissive but smiling with the strawberry between her teeth. " _Now_ I'd like my usual, if you please."

"You got it."

While she waits, Yang continues to take stock of the crowd. She can sense the intentions of most of them and had a tendency to be on the lookout for those that felt lonely or uncomfortable in such a stimulating setting. She liked comforting people, making them smile, and if it got her a new friend or partner in the process, it was considered a bonus. But tonight there wasn't much discomfort, which was a small surprise -the exception was a man trying to drink away the depression of his recent divorce, and things like that Yang knew to leave well enough alone.

She'll take the strawberry sunrise that's passed to her, shrugging out of her leather jacket before turning on the stool to face the open floor. While cradling the glass in her hand she leans back against the counter. Yang looks towards the stage where the DJ usually works, finding his table unoccupied and covered in cloth, and now all she can think about is wanting to hear Weiss sing -she hadn't spent enough time with her lately and is suddenly missing her.

Her drink is almost to her lips with the lights dim and the spotlight shutters to life on the stage. The edge of the glass will continue to hover just out of reach as, Yang can only assume, Cinder Fall seems to stalk into view. She emerges into the staggering light wearing a dark crimson dress that looks like it's poured on, her pale shoulders and collar mostly bare, save for her lush, dark brown hair on the left side that curls like a cat's tail. Now she's thinking of her other lover, Blake, doubly so when she focuses on the unfamiliar woman's burning amber eyes. Yang has no idea that her mouth is still hanging open.

Junior knew she would react like this, and smiles to himself as he watches her and pours another patron's drink. He knew it from the moment he saw Cinder that Yang would be all but stupid at the sight of her. Luck Dragons have an affinity for pretty things, especially golden ones like the Xiaolongs. "You're gonna catch flies if you let your jaw hang like that much longer."

Yang quickly puts the drink to her lips, trying to recover the few seconds she thought she lost -it was really almost a minute. When she swallows she sputters and half turns towards him. "Where the hell did you find  _her_ ?"

"She's been here only a couple times before, never talked to her until she signed up for tonight. Don't know where she's from or any of that."

Yang shakes her head and takes another drink, suppressing a laugh. "If this is some ploy to make me spend more money in here, it's working."

Junior grins. "I don't know what you're talking about." And his grin widens when he loses Yang again, Cinder having started to sing. Through the whole performance he's watching her, shaking his head as she appears helplessly drawn to the woman on stage, not even coherent enough to realize she's just holding her drink near her mouth again. When she does appear to try and take another drink, all she does is press her thumb between her teeth.

"I know this song." she says finally, dreamily.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." half a nod, the slightest drop of her chin. "My...mom sang it." But she thinks more of the song -and her step-mother- than her absentee parent, remembering how particular she is about how it sounds and how the words are articulated. It was written in a long since dead language, and Yang could only stand to hear it a certain way; it was meant to convey a haunting heaviness, and this Cinder woman had it down to an art. "She a siren or something?"

"You know I can't tell you." Charms on the bar kept him from exposing his supernatural customers, kept them from exposing each other, and that's coupled with a powerful boon to any glamors in place when anyone walks in. Still, whatever she is, he doesn't know anyway. "But that's as good a guess as any."

"Gods have mercy on me." because she knows she's in trouble.

"You gonna buy her a drink?"

"I'll buy her anything she wants if she asks me nicely."

"You're a mess." and they laugh together, both nodding in agreement. "You want another?"

"Yeah, gettin' real thirsty now." Yang hadn't even realized her glass was bone dry. Then she sighs again. "Gods have mercy." Yang takes her next drink much more slowly, savoring it, letting herself get lost in the music. She turns herself to face Junior after a moment, sensing a tempting and thrilling risk in looking directly at the woman on stage. Like Medusa, she muses briefly. But if the Gorgon is that pretty, would death be so bad?

When the music stops Yang feels a hard shiver up her back, going deeper still to rattle the gilded scales that hide beneath her human disguise like the remaining cubes of ice in her glass.

Junior gives her a knowing side eye. "Want me to bring her over?"

"I don't think I'm ready to owe you that big of a favor." she chuckles.

"Promise I won't ask for much." he grins and winks and starts down the length of the bar, heading for the small swinging door at the far end.

It only takes perhaps half a minute to return, Yang watching him from the corner of her eye and noticing his hand gesture in her general direction. Like a candle in a dark room she spots the woman in the red dress and unconsciously tracks her, more mentally than visually, as she contemplates whether or not she really needs another drink. When they're finally face to face, Junior exchanging names for them, Yang knows she's looking at trouble, but all she can do is grin and kiss Cinder's knuckle when she offers her hand.

"I really enjoyed your performance."

"So Junior tells me," Cinder smiles, the expression warm and velvety like her eyes, "he says you were drooling the entire time."

"Thankfully I had enough class to drool in my drink." and she feels so much better about her nerves when Cinder laughs.

"What are you having? I'll happily buy you another." Cinder offers as she slides onto the empty stool, still facing Yang.

"Now I'll hear none of that; after a show like that, let me treat you. Whatever you want."

"Nice to meet a fan." A smooth chuckle. "How about a few shots and we see where that takes us?"

Something in the back of Yang's mind is telling her this is too easy, too good to be true. A suspicion that whatever Cinder is knows exactly what she's looking at and is looking to score. But the notion is too tiny a whimper to be heard over the giddiness and excitement. "Sounds like fun, you pick the first round."

"You like fireball?"

"You cut me in the right place and I  _bleed_ it. Junior, if you would be so kind?" Yang grins like a cat in the cream when he puts two small glasses and an unopened bottle on the counter between them, knowing he means to leave them to their own mischief. Yang cracks the seal on the bottle and fills the first glass to pass to her. "So where did you hear that song?"

"A former co-worker." Cinder takes the shot and puts it away, loving the wide eyes that Yang makes at her. "Heard it in passing and I really liked it, so I had them teach it to me."

"You remember their name?"

"Gods, it was so long ago," Cinder shakes her head, reaching for the whiskey. "I honestly can't recall."

"You're not  _that_ old, are you?"

"Old enough, let's just say that." she empties the shot glass again and refills it.

Yang's golden brows rise towards her hairline,  _this girl isn't foolin' around. Damn._ She shakes her head in awe. "So you come to Junior's often? I haven't seen you before."

"I'm new to this part of the city, and this place seemed like fun,"

"You weren't wrong."

"Plus, I'm looking for something." and it sounds like it slipped, and likely did because Cinder immediately recovers. "Sorry, that was too personal."

"Not at all. By all means, get personal." When it finally clicks how loaded that statement is, Yang feels her face redden a little.

Cinder giggles behind her hand. "You're cute when you're flustered. But, by the same token, you're just cute."

"Fair warning, flattery will get you everywhere with me."

"Good to know." Cinder nods. "But, lucky for you, I'm not trying to get  _everywhere_ ."

Yang tucks her chin, feigning shyness. "Would it be inappropriate to ask for a chance to change your mind?"

"Only if I wasn't considering the same thing." Cinder winks at her.

Yang busies herself with a shot, hoping it's enough to blame the fresh flush of her cheeks on. "So what is it you're looking for? Maybe I can help you find it,"

"I don't want to talk about that right now. I'd rather talk about you."

So they talk, they drink, they laugh and enjoy themselves as anyone else would. They take time away from the bottle to dance for a spell, and the way Cinder presses ever closer time and again encourages her to eventually ask if she wants to go somewhere more quiet. That's when Cinder curls an arm around Yang's neck, her back to the buff blonde's front, and whispers in her ear. "My place is as quiet as a tomb."

Yang knows a part of her should have been terrified, knows it in her bones, but those low vibrations of warning are swamped by sheer intrigue. Sometimes she just couldn't help but to play with fire, especially when she has no idea how bad she could get burned. Yang will slide Junior a stack of bills -Cinder adding a small fold of her own money- settling her tab in full and then some for his trouble, and then slips her leather jacket around Cinder's shoulders as they go out into the night. She expects Cinder to want to dawdle a little, find a way to either procrastinate to get over any jitters she feels or to not make herself seem too eager, but that isn't the case at all. Cinder unashamedly leads her through Vale's streets, heading promptly in the direction of wherever she means to go, pulling Yang along by the pinky. The closest they come to stopping beforehand is when they wait for the crosswalk lights to turn.

Something else Yang expected was a swanky apartment, she just had a feeling by the way she dressed and carried herself that Cinder preferred finer, softer things. Instead they take an elevator up the spine of a modest highrise to a cozy but less than new dwelling. Crossing the threshold, the Luck Dragon feels a very familiar jolt, and smiles as she takes the liberty of closing the door behind herself.

"So you _are_ supernatural?"

"You couldn't tell?" Cinder grins over her shoulder as she steps out of her heels.

"Had a good feeling, just wasn't sure. Was that a sound ward?" Yang watches her nod. "Like to keep the neighbors away?"

" _Especially_ when I have company." Cinder turns to her guest and slides out of the coat. "Would you like this back?"

"It's kind of my favorite, but I'm not in a rush. It looks nice on you too, so,"

"Flatterer." Cinder cuts a slim, feline grin. "Though it totally clashes with this dress. Maybe you could help me find something that suits it better?"

Yang can't help but clear her throat, her brows cocking suggestively on a reflex. "I'd be happy to."

Cinder curls her finger, silently beckoning as she walks on with Yang in tow. The two of them disappear behind the bedroom door. Much like the walk to the apartment, Cinder wasted no time, promptly directing Yang to and pushing her to sit on the edge of the bed. She then nudges Yang's feet apart, spreading her thighs to stand in the newly created space and turning away from her. A seemingly innocuous request to pull down the zipper of her dress is read as an invitation, and Yang takes her sweet time to shape her big hands around Cinder's body.

"Stop me if I go too far." Yang says.

"I will." Cinder purrs in reply, enjoying the warmth of the palms smoothing over her backside, then flinches with a little giggle at the brief squeeze. "Can you see in the dark?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Mind if we turn the lights off?" The request comes with a slight, sheepish tremble in her voice.

Yang chuckles, her hands easing high, under her jacket in search of the zipper. "Sure. You shy?"

"Maybe a little." Another easy laugh that comes out on a little gasp, and then a light snap of her fingers bathes the room in total darkness. Both women see everything in shades of gray. "It's my first time with someone like you."

"Oh yeah? Hmm." Yang focuses on the dull whirr of the zipper, then chances to lean forward and find heated, bare skin with her lips. "You sure know how to pick 'em. Not to brag, but I'm a bit of a tall order."

"I guessed that. Still," Cinder shimmies her shoulders and hips, Yang's hands framing her sides and moving with her as her dress slips down. "I just...something about you, I feel like you have _just_ _what I need_."

Yang kisses the small of her back, grinning against her skin. "Guess we'll find out, won't we?"

 

_(II)_

Jaune wakes before his alarm sounds, consciousness coming over him easily as he stretches a little. Rubbing his eyes he rolls over and taps his clock, flipping the little switch on top so it wouldn't go off in the next few minutes. He's careful when he climbs out of bed, gently turning up his half of the blankets so Pyrrha won't wake when she feels the draft of his absence. He'll pause briefly when she stirs, mumbling quietly, but then continues once she's quiet again. He only needs his memory of the room layout to find his work clothes atop the dresser in the darkness, but he takes a little more uncertain care to find his boots with his bare feet after pulling up his pants. Jaune tucks in the laces and creeps out of the room, wincing slowly as the door hinges squeak. When the door stalls against the frame he breathes a little sigh and eases down the short hallway to his daughters' room.

He knows they're already awake, somehow he just does, and sure enough he can hear them moving around and softly vocalizing to each other in the seconds before he flips the light switch. The gentle glow of a small lamp fills the room and he can't help but smile at the flickers of eye shine in response. Both twins stand up in their crib as he approaches, little hands gripping the rail to hoist themselves a little higher so they can see him.

"Good morning." he hums as he bends over them, putting himself in reach of their grabbing hands. They pat his face and pull his hair and ramble on as if he understands; they're ten months old so they have something like a language beginning to form. Their father catches bits and pieces, but nods and responds so they know he's listening. "Time to get you ready for momma, little ladies. Tema, you're first." Because Rahne went first yesterday and he had to be sure not to show favoritism. Lycan cubs pick up on those things.

Jaune looks at them both briefly before hoisting Tema up and propping her on his hip, telling them apart by their green-blue heterochromia that's on opposite sides. Carrying her to the changing table he still listens to Rahne as she watches and keeps talking in her own way. He doesn't even really need to hold Tema as she grips his clothes and hangs like a koala from his ribs. Cubs hit their developmental milestones sooner than human babies and she had been doing this for a few weeks now. He's not surprised as he was when she first started doing it, but he makes an effort to show her he notices. All three of them talk back and forth, Tema thankfully not too squirmy while Jaune tries to get her out of her pajamas and into a fresh diaper. But she'll writhe and flail like babies do, grabbing her father's forearm with all her little limbs when he attempts to put a little shirt with a cartoon sheep on her. She laughs, Rahne laughs too, and in the end he just shakes his head with a chuckle before prying himself loose.

With one cub ready he lifts her up to return her to the crib just long enough for him to go through the same routine with her sister. Rahne is the more sedate of the two, at least physically, and she's content to continue babbling while being mostly still as Jaune changes her. Though she fusses a little when daddy takes too long to pull her long, wispy red bangs out of her face and up into a tiny ponytail. Now that they're both ready, Jaune manages them both in his arms, one on each hip, and makes his way downstairs.

 

It's a rare occasion that Pyrrha sleeps longer than a half hour after Jaune leaves the bed. Her instincts start to bristle at his absence like the short hairs on her body when she's aware of his missing body heat. She sits up sluggishly and stretches as her mouth parts in an exaggerated yawn, then she eases to her feet and goes in search of her clothes. Going through the rest of her morning routine is easy and thoughtless, and out of habit she'll check the twins' room even though she knows they won't be there. She's smiling, rubbing the last bits of sleep from her eyes as she descends the stairs. She feels a ripple of energy as she passes the threshold between the living room and kitchen, having come into the room at the same time Ren pushes through the back door. His glamor is down, allowing her a semi-rare look at his true self. The dimensions of a large deer, with a single yet appropriately shaped antler included, the Kirin's body shimmers with scales in shades of green and pink and black. A cloud like mane of white collars his neck and chest, all four hoofed feet, and the tip of a prehensile tail. Pale pink eyes with no visible irises meet hers, blinking once as if in greeting.

Pyrrha shows no concern when the mystical creature approaches her children who are waiting in their high chairs for breakfast. Ren adores the twins, and at times Pyrrha believes he understands them better than even herself. She knows in the way he greets them, giving Tema the lightest nuzzle with the tip of his soft nose, mindful not to linger long enough for her to grab his long whiskers. And with Rahne he comes only close enough for her to reach him, as she prefers to pet his muzzle instead of being touched by him -at least when he looks like this. Once his glamor rises and he looks more human, the baby lights up and squeals with delight, reaching with grabbing hands towards his long sable hair.

Smiling, Pyrrha pushes on across the kitchen to where Jaune stands in front of the stove. Once behind him her arms slip easily around his waist as her body conforms to his, her chest lining against his back and her chin resting on his shoulder so she can kiss his neck. He hums and turns his head to her, his smile matching her own as he wordlessly requests another, this time on his lips. Unhurried and comfortable, their foreheads come together as their lips come apart.

"Good morning." he greets softly.

"Morning, love." she replies, then kisses his nose coupled with a squeeze of her arms around his middle. "Thanks for getting the girls up."

He nods. "Go ahead and sit down, breakfast is almost ready." And he knows she moves away when she gives him a light pat on his backside.

The twins immediately react when they become aware of their mother's presence, seeming to completely forget Ren as they squirm and bounce in their seats, chanting "ma, ma, ma!" Pyrrha will crouch between them, low enough so they can touch her face and nuzzle each other in their own customary, lycan way. The children mostly settle when she stands up, but they watch her like hawks until she sits down at the kitchen island, and then their attention is divided between Pyrrha and Ren until Jaune joins them.

For a spell it's mostly quiet, the adults seemingly more focused on feeding the cubs over themselves. Jaune uses both of his hands, taking bites of his own breakfast with one while offering spoonfuls of oatmeal to Rahne with the other. He's on a schedule, after all.

"I'm going to call my mom today." he says between swallows. "I'll ask if she can take the twins next weekend."

"Oh?" one crimson eyebrow lifts, Pyrrha looking clearly curious and intrigued.

Jaune nods. "Would you like to have a weekend just to the two of us?"

Pyrrha thinks a moment, briefly distracted as Tema flails her little arms because she's impatient for her next bite. Then her brow furrows. "I don't know. Gypsy's only kept them overnight before, and she was here at the house. You think she'd be okay with a couple days? With them away from home?"

"You know she would love it. She misses having babies at the Warren, and the twins adore her."

"I know, but," she gnaws at the corner of her lip, "they're still so little."

"They need to start socializing and getting away from the den. Didn't your mom say that?"

"Yes." Pyrrha sighs.

"I think Rhea's right. Ren and Nora aren't here consistently enough,"

"Not for a lack of wanting to," Ren adds gently.

"I know." Jaune nods again. "Plus the girls need to be around more blood relatives."

Pyrrha shrugs quietly and tucks her chin, looking up at her husband after a short moment. "You're right. And momma's right. Just,"

"You're worried." he finishes for her, smiling with sympathetic understanding. "And it's okay that you feel that way, but it's my mom. She wouldn't let anything bad happen to them."

Pyrrha's quiet again, focusing on the baby beside her that's waiting with her mouth open for another spoonful. She knows Jaune's right, and believes him, but something in her just can't shake a certain anxiety. And it isn't the obvious kind of a new mother handing off the care of her babies to someone else, but a strange, almost hypocritical sort that she has never spoken of out loud even to Jaune. Life is going to be hard for the twins, especially as they get older. Pyrrha wanted them to have as much _normal_ in their lives as possible, which meant keeping them away from magic and other supernatural matters for as long as she could. And as much as she loved her mother-in-law, letting her have the kids for a weekend felt contradictory.

But it had been months since she and Jaune had been really alone together...

"When?"

"I was thinking next Friday night, after mom closes the dance studio. Then we come home and get a jump start on our weekend."

Pyrrha manages a knowing smile. "And what sort of plans did you have in mind for us?"

"Well, Friday night I was thinking something simple; we could order a pizza and watch a movie, then move to the bedroom for dessert."

Pyrrha chuckles.

"Then,"

" _Da_!" Rahne shouts, still waiting for more food.

"Sorry, sweetie," Jaune apologizes, placating her with another spoonful. "Then I was thinking about breakfast in bed...maybe lunch in bed, too."

She giggles again. "Jaune, we can't spend our whole weekend in bed."

"I wasn't planning on it, but I wanted to make sure we made the most of our time." he waggles his blond eyebrows and smirks. "Besides, Saturday night I'm going to take you to dinner and dancing at our favorite place."

"That's sounds wonderful, but I'm going to take a wild guess that you mean to return to bed once we get back."

"You know me too well." and they laugh at each other, also aware that Ren is smiling at them. "And then Sunday, we can relax around the house a while longer before we pick up the twins in the afternoon. What do you think?"

"I think you might be in rut." Pyrrha feels herself blushing a little at the admission, never mind how true it actually is. She can smell it on him. "But aside from that, I think it sounds great."

Now Jaune's cheeks redden a little, feeling like he's been caught. "Good, because I've already put in for the time off. Speaking of which, I've got to run."

Pyrrha watches him as Jaune finishes his food and helps Rahne do the same. He rises from the table, the legs of the chair squawking on the tile floor, and then works around the island to kiss both twins on the forehead before giving Pyrrha a not so quick one on the lips. Their foreheads press together for all of a second before they part.

"Be safe." she says.

"I will. See you tonight." another kiss. "I love you."

"Love you too."

 

_(III)_

Her sleep had been deep, like warm silk and with the taste of honey on her tongue, and those sensations linger as her consciousness gently rises. But the higher her awareness goes, the more she starts to feel reality and not the comfort of sleep, more and more clues come into focus that something is amiss.

Yang remembers the cheap softness of Cinder's bed, the aroma of flowery detergent and Cinder's personal scent in the cotton sheets. The perfect give of the mattress and weight of the down comforter had made nodding off last night so damn easy, never mind the soft hum of Cinder's voice in her ear as she quietly sang something she doesn't fully recall. Now all of that is starting to fragment and dissolve into a commingling of several uncomfortable things; first of all is that the warmth has disappeared and been replaced with a heavy and wet chill that she feels  _all over_ . Once her brain is able, it sends a prickling wave across her nerve endings to trigger a host of gooseflesh that yanks her consciousness higher. On top of the chill is something coarse, roughly finished beneath her bare back, something her weight pulls down on at an angle. Her subconscious is warning her not to move too suddenly or risk a splinter in all the wrong places. Now she is aware of the tingling in her arms, the phantom vestiges of feeling in her fingers, and the shock that comes from realizing she can't move her arms when she tries to snaps her completely awake.

It is most certainly  _not_ Cinder's room that she finds herself in. She couldn't remember the layout of the bedroom or even the color of the walls, but she's dead-to-rights positive that they weren't made of stone. She turns her head with a jerk, feeling the resistance of something ringed and rigid beneath her jaw. Something distinctly metallic that rattles briefly against steely moorings. Yang tries to blink through her blurred vision while she tries again to move her arms from where they are stuck above her head, hearing more rattling from manacles that keep her limbs fixed in place. Panic is rising in her gut.

"Good morning. Or evening, actually. It's nearly midnight here."

Yang sees Cinder well enough even though the edges of her vision are still frayed from her deep sleep, she's the only thing familiar in this awful dungeon of a room. For a moment she settles, yet her chest rises and falls with quick pants. "H-hey, when I said I was into bondage, this isn't quite what I had in mind."

"Oh, do you not approve? I mean, I'm sure you're not  _entirely_ comfortable at the moment," Cinder stands before her, still wrapped up in Yang's leather jacket, a stray motion of her hand pushing a loose curl of hair from her face. "But that's somewhat the point."

"The point of  _what_ ?"

"Well," Cinder looks away, smiling comfortably as she takes a few leisurely steps forward. "It's like I said last night, I was looking for something, and I had a good feeling you had just what I needed."

"Yeah, I remember that." Yang tries to nod and can't fully do so. She tugs at the manacles at her wrists again. "I thought you were just looking for a good time."

"That too, and you really were  _quite_ wonderful." Once she's close enough she looks up at Yang, partly admiring her muscular frame trussed up like it is. She takes the tip of one finger, pressing just enough of the edge of her nail into Yang's sternum, and drags a slow trail to her navel. The restrained woman's stomach jumps and a curt breath hisses through her teeth.

"Okay, so you got what you wanted...but needed?" Yang has to look down her nose at Cinder, unable to tuck her chin enough due to whatever it is fixed around her neck.

Cinder hooks the dark purple boy shorts she left on her guest's body with that single finger, tugging almost playfully, wondering if Yang will appreciate the generosity of having spared some of her dignity later. "I need you, if you can, to tell me where the Scribe is."

Yang stills, even her chest pausing, then her face slants into a fierce grimace. "What makes you think I know that?" Somehow her expression grows more ferocious before she continues with " _Who the hell are you_ ?"

"Rarity follows rarity, or so I've gathered. I've been at this a  _long_ time so I've managed to pick up a few things." Cinder pulls back her finger, letting the waistband snap back into place and making Yang jump. "Things like you being a female Luck Dragon that favors her father -not very common. And there's more, or so I've heard."

"I'm not telling you shit."

"You don't have to."

Yang inhales and exhales heavily through flared nostrils, feeling the pitching heat of her own breath. "Look, you let me loose  _right. Now_ . Or this place is going up in flames."

"I'd  _love_ to see you try."

Instantaneously Yang can feel her true nature stirring in her heart as she takes another deep breath, in a split second she can taste the smoke and coils of it start swirling between her teeth that are starting to look more like fangs. Cinder just looks on, amused, eyes glowing with interest, showing her own pointed canines amidst a catlike grin. She doesn't even flinch when Yang pushes every last ounce of air out of her lungs in one powerful burst, casting nothing but embers and more smoke into the air that only spirals around Cinder before dissipating. Yang's confusion laced anger makes her laugh.

"Gods above, you're so  _cute_ when you're angry." Cinder subdues her giggles enough to say. "Blue Jade." And she loves the way Yang's expression morphs again, this time to wild disbelief, when she points towards her own throat.

Yang swallows hard, her mind connecting the dots. Whoever Cinder  _really_ is, she has done her homework. And with that realization, Yang accepts the fact that she is in desperate trouble.

"I know who you are, Yang - _what you are_ \- and I know what makes you tick." Cinder continues comfortably. "By the same token I know how to hurt you, which I would rather not do. So how about you do us both a favor and tell me what I want to know?"

"How about you blow it out your ass?" Yang's biting retort emerges as a grinding, throaty growl, sparks still flickering behind her teeth.

" _Now_ your mother comes out! Hah!" Cinder almost cheers. "At first I had my doubts, I mean you  _do_ look a bit like her but -oh my god, are your eyes reddening?"

Sure enough Yang's once lilac irises swirl and glisten with scarlet fury that only seems to deepen in those few seconds. Smoke is coiling from her nostrils as breaths heave through them, and her hair has a certain glow that waxes gold and then threatens red like her eyes. Cinder's smoldering amusement sputters then, her smile kinking into a serious half snarl as she spies the blackness starting to cloud Yang's skin and how her fingernails are starting to turn into talons. The energy in the room pitches heavily, prompting a swift response. With a wince and a grunt, Cinder puts her thumb between her teeth, biting the pad hard enough to draw blood. Without spilling a drop she takes enough steps to stand just in front of Yang, and rises to the balls of her feet to reach the furious woman's forehead and quickly smudge the wet redness in what looks like some sort of symbol.

Cinder takes a reflexive, cautionary step back, watching as the seal does its work and subdues the magic in the room back to where it was. Yang's eyes remain red and caustic, but she has otherwise returned to her previous appearance.

"So it's true. It's all true." Cinder is smiling again. "Raven really is your mother...your  _birth_ mother at least, that makes you one of the rarest creatures in the cosmos."

Yang pulls against her restraints again, feeling the muscles of her human frame straining to the point of pain. The mark on her forehead burns, suppressive, but it's far from being hotter than her own rage. " _Who are you_ ?!" she roars around half formed fangs.

Cinder just looks back, molten gold meeting boiling blood as she holds that horrid, toothy grin of hers. With a breathy laugh of an exhale she turns away, heading for the heavy wood and iron-laced door. "Truth be told, who I am isn't all that important, not to you at least, because  _I'm_ not your biggest concern any longer." She hooks the handle with one finger, pulling it until the hinges squeal sharply. Stepping out of the new opening she allows another to pass, a much smaller woman with bi-colored eyes and hair dyed to match. She's smiling ear to ear and eying Yang with more than obvious interest. " _She_ is."

Yang's still scalding gaze flits from one woman to the other, a touch of curiosity flickering in the knit of her brow. When she looks down at the smaller one a second time she catches her blinking, sees the change in her eyes, and feels her fury mount.

"Neo's going to be keeping you company while I go make some arrangements, and when I get back, maybe you'll feel up to talking?"

" _I'm going to rip your face off and wear it on All Hallows_ ,  _you hear me_ ?!  _**You hear me** _ ?!" Yang screamed, the threat bouncing off of Cinder's back as she had already started out of the room into whatever shadows were beyond her sight, then out came a bellowing roar that released a veil of embers into air. The flickering ashes dance around Neo, who has yet to take her eyes off of Yang, and when the Dragon glares down at her again her smile somehow widens, appearing unnatural. Off frame.

Neo's hands move with purpose, gestures that Yang recognizes as some form of signage yet cannot interpret. She assumes it's nothing good because she knows what she's looking at, a sort of creature she had been assured was long extinct, and it makes her gut twist.

"Take your best shot." she snarls.

Neo covers her mouth with both hands as if she means to laugh behind them, but remains silent as the sound that should have been translates through her body like it would with anyone else.

_We're going to have so much fun._ Her hands had said, and Neo planned to make good on her word.

 

 

Author's Note: Like I mentioned before, this story won't likely have the finesse and impact of Embers, but I still think it has some really good bones so far. Still introducing a lot of elements, and still got more to come before the story really kicks off, but just bear with me and I think you'll have a good time. Comments are always welcome and thanks for stopping by.

 


	3. Chapter 2

A Witch is methodical, regardless of the type. At least, that is how Weiss Schnee was raised to operate. Witches, especially White Witches such as herself, are calculating, disciplined, and thorough to the nth degree. They know their rituals forwards and backwards and in three different -mostly dead- languages, and could easily recite the entirety of their personal grimoire in their sleep. Though that last part was mostly the subject of rumor, and had only been passed around as hearsay by novices after botched seances. But, regardless of reality or myth, Weiss is true to the stereotype of the meticulous Witch.

Particularly in this moment as she moves in direct lines from one end to the other across her startlingly white bedroom's floor, switching predictably from purpose to pacing. She wants to be certain everything is right where it needs to be, including herself -her mindset and focus- before taking the next step. She's rehearsing in her head several scenarios, conversations, outcomes to what she means to do, and she hardly likes most of them. A couple are objectively terrifying for her. But she forces the little shakes down - _discipline, discipline, discipline_ \- and returns to the last of the details, placing a remaining collections of items on a fine wooden table across from the foot of her spacious bed. Once she has nudged and inched and micromanaged everything in to place to her satisfaction, she stands between the table and her bed and takes a deep breath. She then closes her eyes and focuses, a little flux of cold energy shuddering through the room.

There's a solid sliver of darkness between the drawn back curtain's of Weiss' bay window and the corner of the wall, and it ripples like smoke, threading briefly before parting as an equally ethereal, humanoid figure steps out of it. The walking shade solidifies, turns pitch, then peels away like a veil to reveal a woman, a sable cat Faunus to be precise. Slitted amber eyes blink until they adjust to the light in the room, furred ears flitting atop her head as she crosses the floor with whispering steps towards the White Witch that called her.

Weiss senses the energy shift in the room and opens her eyes, turning her head in a relaxed way towards her new guest, smiling in a subdued fashion. "Blake," her expression quirks, curious at Blake's outfit, "oh...you're working?"

"The Khan doesn't know I'm here, but I can't stay long. What did you need?" Blake watches Weiss for a moment, dark brows see-sawing at the subtle but numerous changes that come over her face. Namely in her icy blue eyes. "It's not like you to hesitate."

"I'm sorry." Weiss turns to face her, hands behind her back so Blake can't see them fussing together. "Just, I have a bad feeling."

"Mind a quick explanation before I agree to anything?"

"I have been trying to reach Yang and...there's been no response." Weiss' eyes are towards the floor, focusing on Blake's tabi style boots. "You know how this works; usually we can just think about her and she answers somehow. Either one of us could just speak her name and she'd appear. But," she swallows, "I tried that day before yesterday. For a couple hours I thought about her, then I called out to her, and nothing. Not even a notion in the aether."

Blake's ears slant back in a singular, snapping motion.

"And yesterday I tried a ritual. Still nothing."

"Well, if she didn't come for a  _ritual summoning_ ,"

"I know, but I wanted to try again, just to be sure, and I wanted you to be here because...well, you're her favorite."

"Yang doesn't play favorites."

"Yes she does." Weiss chuckles. "She hides it well, but you really are. But that's not what this is about. Will you help me?"

"Of course. What can I do?"

"I've already set up the altar. All I need you to do is just be here, put your energy out there, you know how it goes."

Blake nods and moves to stand beside her in front of the altar. She spies nothing unfamiliar on the table; Yang's preferred liquor, her favorite incense burns in a small bowl made of polished brass, a trio of saucers cradle a variety of snacks, and all these things are arranged in a semicircle around the gilded statue of a serpentine, Mistrali Dragon. Looking further down, to the floor, Blake sees the Mistrali script drawn on the varnished wood in purple chalk -Yang's favorite color- to form a ring. The base of a summoning circle. Movement in her peripherals draws Blake's gaze, and she finds Weiss is offering her hand. Blake takes it, giving the Witch a reassuring nod.

The Faunus has a hard time focusing properly in the beginning, partly because she can feel Weiss's worry like a wire brush just under the surface of her skin, and partly because she's trying to understand why she's worrying in the first place. Yang had been known to drop off the radar from time to time, that's a Dragon's privilege after all. But not to at least give some form of an answer to a paramour's call, much less a ritual, is decidedly not. If anyone knew how to lure out a magical being, it would be a Schnee.

Perhaps Weiss really did have a reason to worry. It's an idea that Blake becomes steadily more inclined to accept as the minutes tick by without so much as a gust of wind to stir the smoke from the incense. And if it wasn't for that, Weiss' gradually tightening grip would have sufficed.

It might have been ten minutes, maybe twenty, at this point it didn't much matter. Yang didn't appear or show any sign of intending to do so.

Weiss let go of Blake's hand, drawing back from the altar as her face drops into her open hands before her fingers press into her eyes.

"What do you think?" Blake asks gently.

"I...I don't know, this has never happened before." Weiss shakes her head, then she looks at Blake, eyes pleading. "How is this even possible?"

"She could be visiting another plane, or in between, or visiting one of her temples. Enough people praying makes enough interference to feel across the country."

"But  _nothing_ came back, like she doesn't exist." The fear is in her eyes again, only more intense now. "I...what if she's in danger?"

Blake seems to balk at the idea. Her ears flatten out to the sides, making her look vulnerable and unsure, a stark contrast to the resolute darkness that the Shadowmancer seemed to embody. It takes a moment but she pulls her briefly scattering composure together, her ears marking the shift as they slant up and forward. "I have to get back, but I'll keep my eyes and ears open, look closer when I'm able. Until this job is done I can't do much, and there's no telling when we'll be finished."

"I understand." Weiss nods. "I'll talk to mother, see if there's anything she can do as well. Is it still the," the volume of her voice abruptly drops, "Cornerstone case?"

Blake just nods in confirmation. "The Khan has been running all of us from one corner of Remnant to the other over it. We haven't turned up much of anything yet, but a lot of us think we're getting close."

A fresh terror seems to flicker across Weiss face. "What if they're related?"

"That's...not very likely."

"But what if it  _is_ ?"

Blake takes a breath, trying her best to understand. She doesn't know how to be afraid for Yang, it's just a fact. She loves her, cherishes her presence and their bond, but she just can't be worried for her because she knows Yang is powerful. Nothing could put down Yang Xiaolong. "If I...even  _think_ I hear a rumor that something has happened to her, related or not, you'll be the first to know."

"Thank you." she exhales, looking only marginally comforted. In a rare gesture, Weiss opens her arms and silently requests a hug -very out of character for her- and perhaps the shock of such an act is what makes Blake readily react. Blake takes the smaller woman in her arms and holds her close, the best way she can show she cares, and kisses the top of her head before letting go. 

"Be safe."

"I'll do my best." the Faunus nods one last time, taking one big step back before she heads for the shadows she first emerged from, disappearing once again.

 

_(II)_

Beyond the cold cruelty of the fortress' dungeon at its highest reaches, there is a surprising scene of comfort and decadence. Corridors were well lit by tireless braziers, the walls decorated with countless articles of both woven and painted artwork. The rooms meant for visitors, that is those attending of their own volition, are furnished and well kept, otherwise the spaces are, at the very least, clean and dry. It was the way Cinder had found it when she took over, and the way she saw fit to keep it as she -like most of her kind- enjoyed such luxury and order.

Having just left the lofty tower, Cinder makes her way two floors down, not the ground level but just above it, where more private business is attended to and kept away from prying eyes and ears. With a bundle draped over one arm she passes several open doors, meeting rooms and repositories, to the only closed one. Seeing as this is _her_ domicile, she doesn't bother knocking before letting herself in after opening the heavy door with a jerking, upward lift of the heavy metal handle. The hinges groan as the door swings open, allowing her step into a well lit and warm room that, at a glance, appears to be just another library of sorts.

Following the rug between the first pair of bookcases discards the illusion of a simple archive, revealing the room's more accurate description as a laboratory. All the other bookcases form a circle around the center of the room that descends down nearly ten feet. At the bottom are tables that line the walls, each of them loaded down with phials and glass tubing and countless other containers filled with equally countless substances. A recessed fireplace growls with warmth, the usual occupant of this space needing constant heat just to stay awake enough to work. However, said occupant is not immediately visible in its glow, convincing Cinder to stay amongst the books to find her. At first she stands on the rim of the shallow pit, leaning on one foot than the other to peer around the shelves in hopes of spotting her, then gives a quiet shrug of inconvenience when she has to start walking again.

Cinder finds her at the far side of the room, behind all the shelves. In the ceiling is an iron track that circles the entire room, and at it's end is a wide and deep cabinet that now sits open and empty. Usually it's home to a collection of maps, but now every last one of them is held open on a metal frame and hanging from the track in the ceiling. The frames are fitted with rollers, allowing them to be pushed along the track until each are on full display, easily accessible with just a few steps to the left or the right; Cinder's associate is currently doing just that.

"Emerald," Cinder calls out with care, not wanting to startle her.

The darker skinned woman's head snaps in Cinder's direction, crimson irises settling on her reflexively from behind circular frames. "Oh, I didn't hear you come in."

"I'm sure you're busy." Cinder grins as she continues her approach, chancing a glance at the maps as she goes, recognizing most of them without trying to. "Found anything interesting today?"

Emerald almost grins, hints of fangs between her lips. "Not as much as when I started." she watches as one of Cinder's brows lift with curiosity. "Nothing you've been looking for, though."

"No sign of the Scribe?"

"No, not yet." she shrugs quietly, taking the glasses from her face and rubbing her eyes briefly. "Maybe if I also had the High Minister's _eyes_ ,"

"And if I had thought you could use them I would have taken them."

"I know." Emerald sounds almost flattered. "In any case, I wouldn't be able to find him unless the minister knew who he was, but you know how those rules work so it's likely he didn't."

"Indeed." Cinder's displeasure simmers in her voice. Then she exhales, resigned. "So be it. All the same, I have something for you." When she sees the jewel like shimmer in her partner's eyes she makes a gesture, beckoning Emerald along back towards the shallow pit that they might converse in better light.

During the short walk Cinder asks again about what Emerald had found with the magic of the minister's spectacles, thinking it might improve her mood. The first day Emerald wore them had been full of discoveries, going through maps of the other planes one by one and finding such well kept secrets as Oberon's throne room, the Winter Court, and the Great Abyss. And even though Cinder didn't currently have access to these locations, just knowing where they were could prove to be a huge advantage for her. Today had yielded a great deal less, however, but she expected that, it's the nature of these things. She finds herself chuckling when Emerald claims to have found the plane of Fire, Cinder's peoples' home dimension -"You know, if you happen to get homesick."

Once down the steps and in the glow of the fireplace, Emerald takes a moment to warm herself before turning to face Cinder. "So what did you bring me?"

Cinder is already grinning from ear to ear, smug because she knows how this is going to go. She can feel Emerald watching as she places what looks to be a roll of canvas on one of her tables, mindful of the glass as she starts to pull it open. Emerald's shadow flickers across the table as well as she approaches, her pace quickening as Cinder's gift is slowly revealed. A little gasp escapes as firelight catches immaculate golden strands.

"What is this?" Emerald's interest is palpable, and if it wasn't, the wideness of her faintly serpentine eyes was proof enough of it.

Cinder takes a step back, still smiling as she props herself on one hand, the other fist on her hip. "Luck Dragon's mane."

"Gods above, it's _beautiful_." Emerald chances to gently stroke the tresses with her fingertips. "How?"

"Courtesy of our new guest, and I made sure Neo took special care while collecting it."

"Amazing," she breathes. "Is that what all the screaming I heard was about?"

"No, that's was just the north wall wraith acting up again."

"Oh." a little giggle, but it was an honest mistake. The wraith only manifested so often, and she knows Dragons in general could be vain, particularly in regards to their hair.

"What can you do with it?"

"What _can't_ I do with it? I mean, it won't make finding the Scribe any easier, but," her mind is buzzing with possibilities, unable to settle on just one even for the sake of giving an example. "Although, not to sound greedy, is there anything else?"

"Not yet." Cinder chuckles warmly. "I haven't really put the screws to her, but give it another day or two. What do you want?"

"In a perfect world? Tears. Blood is great and all, but Luck Dragon tears are one of the most potent spell ingredients I can think of. I might even be able to alter the enchantment on the minister's glasses."

Cinder's eyes flicker with renewed interest. "How?"

"I'll have to look into it, but your guess is as good as mine. A component that rare, I can only imagine."

"How much would you need?"

"As much as you can get me, because I'm willing to bet this is going to take a lot of trial and error, even for me."

"You'll have everything you need." Cinder assures her, shifting to straighten and advance a couple steps. She watches Emerald's eyes as they watch her hand rise, pale fingers touching Emerald's naturally chilled cheek with the knuckles. "Just like I promised."

At first she seems to enjoy the contact, briefly content, then that shifts into something else. Some form of amusement. "You know you don't have to kiss up to me like this."

"But I thought you liked the kissing?"

"I do. But you and I both know I don't mean that much to you. We're just a couple of misfits," Emerald brushes her hand gently aside, no malice or bitterness intended, and she's still grinning somewhat. "Animals using each other any way we can."

Cinder's gaze shifts away and then back again. "True enough, but I figured you would appreciate the illusion."

"If only that sort of magic worked on me." but she was immune, both to such enchantments and such bullshit, by the nature of her species as well as her upbringing. "Though I'm grateful for the effort."

"Good to know." Cinder smiles again, but it's much more eyes and teeth than a second ago. "Suppose I'll leave you to your work then?"

"If there's nothing you need,"

"Not at the moment."

"Then I'll see you at dinner."

"Until then." Cinder takes a step back, bowing a little in a way that feels half mocking and half amusing before she takes the stairs up and leaves the room. From there she'll make her way back to the tower, feeling the need to watch someone suffer for a while.

 

_(III)_

Agharta, City of Waterfalls, _Cor Meum_ , three of the multiple names for the same subterranean metropolis buried within the stony heart of one of the cosmos' many planes. It's home to countless supernaturals and mundanes alike, but is best known for hosting the headquarters of the Wild Hunt. Agharta's hub was made up entirely of the ancient complex; training grounds, archives, armory, barracks, and the mausoleum easily encompass a square mile of estate with its columns and spires and parapets.

The mausoleum is the last resting place of every hunter -or what remains of them- that had ever earned the title, vaults lining the walls in seemingly endless rank and file that only descends to impossible levels beneath the city. A broad, well lit walkway spirals downward from the entry level, sparse groups of still living hunters and other denizens heading up and down, some breaking off into corridors to find the vaults they seek. Qrow Branwen is among those heading up and eventually out, the only thing out of place in this being that his twin is nowhere in sight.

Raven remained in the lower reaches, among nothing more than torchlight and the echoes of steps as she lingers with what little free time she has. The back of her mind itches with the knowledge that she should head back, return to the surface and to the council waiting to grill her again about the leads that are running out and the progress she hasn't made. Her chest expands and contracts in congress with the furrowing of her brow.

She comes here whenever she feels overwhelmed or lonely, and today she feels a sizable mixture of both as she runs her fingertips across the petals of the rose relief carved in the stone cover of the vault in front of her. When her mind can no longer bear the weight of her station, she busies it with memories of her lost partner and dearest friend, Summer. The silver-eyed sylvan fae had always been so...jovial, which was such a staggering contrast to everything else about the Wild Hunt, and Raven almost laughed at her recollection of thinking Summer obnoxious when they first met. She remembers getting to know Summer, her and Qrow growing to love her in a way, and eventually seeing her as the closest thing she had ever had to a true friend. Enough so to tap her as her top lieutenant upon receiving the rank of Huntmaster.

What she would give to have Summer here now, if for nothing else than to feel the comfort of having someone to lean on -something she just couldn't do with her brother.

"Raven."

She doesn't jump or flinch, neither does her awareness at the unexpected sound of her name. She's knows that voice, knows its softness intimately, and it had never startled her. Her body expands and contracts again. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Weren't  _you_ the one that waived that for me?" there's no humor, the question rhetorical, meant to remind. "I need to speak to you."

"Can't it wait? I need my privacy at the moment." her fingers linger on the floral relief, and she knows his eyes are on it too. When she can see in her peripherals that her guest doesn't move, she turns to look, her crimson eyes meeting deep blue with a neutral setting. "So?"

Taiyang Xiaolong takes a trio of easy steps closer, pushing a hand through his short blonde hair before pulling the same hand down his face. He's uncomfortable, not because of the place but because of the company. He keeps a touch more than an arm's length away from her, feeling her energy bristling against his in some unconscious demand for space. "Yang is missing."

Raven blinks at him, once, twice, then her brow knits gently before she looks away, back to the vault. "You're sure? She isn't off on one of her inter-planar romps?"

"There have been...multiple attempts to contact her," Raven is surprised by Tai's formal language, almost ill at ease about it, "without a response."

"She likes to ignore people when it suits her."

"There have been three formal summoning rituals."

One sable brow lifts but her eyes remain forward, her gaze liked to burn a hole through the heart of the rose. "Who performed them?"

"Weiss Schnee was the first. The second she performed in the presence of Blake Belladonna."

"How long has she been with those two?" she chuffs. "Maybe she thinks it's time to look for new paramours." she doesn't so much see Tai's disapproval as she feels it. A Dragon's hidden fire on the back of her neck.

"Ruby and I performed the third."

Raven scowls fully, crossing her arms and tucking her chin. She knows Tai well enough that she's aware of his less than stellar talent at formal magic, and Ruby's much too young to be proficient, never mind her heritage. But a Schnee, they are the name in rituals and if  _they_ can't get anything resembling a reaction, that's saying a considerable amount.

"She  _never_ ignores Ruby. Ruby and Summer were the only ones she  _always_ answered. Something is wrong."

Raven remains silent another moment, her mind working at a low simmer. "What do you want me to do?"

"What are you able to do?"

"At the moment?" She looks at him again, her tone hardening slightly, "nothing."

"Raven,"

"My hands are tied; until the minister is revived or the Cornerstone is found, every spare minute  _and_ hunter I have is occupied."

"Raven,  _please_ ,"

"If we don't find who took it, it won't matter what Yang has gotten herself into."

The two scowl at each other, Dragonic and Daemonic auras invisibly sparking between them.

"Can you at least pretend to care that she might be in danger?"

"I don't have the luxury of breaking down and dropping everything, Tai. I'm-,"

"Huntmaster." he cuts in. "Then can you at least care in  _that_ capacity? We  _both_ know the kind of target she is to the right people."

Somehow her scowl tightens further, the redness in her eyes shimmering like smoldering coals. There's something maternal in her quiet seething, maternal fear of the list that's forming in her head of the Supernaturals that would want Yang and what they would want her for. And she knows because she's seen it happen to others in her near millennia career, had a too large ledger that acted as a catalog for the recovered body parts.

"Unless you can prove someone has taken her,"

"Three dud rituals isn't proof enough?" his tone is still soft, but she can see a certain shimmer in his eyes now. The pupils are slitting. "Do I need to bring the whole Schnee Cabal into this and have you watch?" And he was ready to do it, and knew he would get the help he needed. "What do I have to do?  _Name it_ . Give me just  _one_ hunter, it can even be a novice fresh out of training if that's all you can spare. Or give me someone who knows a guy that knows a guy - _I don't_ _**care** _ .  _**Anyone** _ ."

She just looks at him, expression unchanged, but her heart is hammering behind her ribs. To slow it down she takes a deep breath, and drifts back to the security blanket that is the carving on the vault's facade. "Does Qrow know?"

"I spoke to him on the way here."

A little, sardonic chuckle. "And did you make all these demands of  _him_ , too?"

Tai's scowl sours further, threading with hurt. "I didn't have to."

Raven's lips tuck between her teeth, thoughts momentarily lost. "I...all I can do for now is not interfere with whatever you mean to do. I'll give Qrow as wide a berth as I can, and if a hunter tries to get in your way, just tell them to talk to me. I can't...I can't do much more unless you bring me hard evidence."

Tai eventually huffs, a ribbon of smoke slipping between his teeth in resignation. "Thank you." Resentment rings in the words.

"I'm sorry, Tai. If I could,"

"Of course you would." he closes the distance between them, Raven physically bracing for something from him, but he disregards her. He reaches out to touch the vault instead, running the pads of his fingers over the relief in a way much like Raven had. If only Summer were here... "Happy hunting, Raven."

She says nothing and watches him leave, her gut turning in on itself. That maternal fear has morphed into a nauseous pain, and she hates how powerless it makes her feel.

 

 

 

Author's Note: Safe to say I'm not a huge fan of Raven. Make no mistake, I think she's a wonderfully complex character, but I don't like her as a person. And as gentle as Taiyang has always seemed to me, this is a special circumstance. So yeah. Next chapter I'm going to try and paint a more in-depth picture of the Nikos household, as well as giving the audience more information about Cinder. Hope you're having fun so far, and feel free to send any questions my way, just can't promise I'll be able to answer them all for spoiler's sake. Comments are super crucial right now, so be a dear and leave me some?  


 


	4. Chapter 3

It's rare for Qrow Branwen to spend much time on Remnant at all, much less travel there to begin with. Typically he sequesters that energy to only visiting his nieces, but today he yields to the pull of a summoning ritual that brings him to the coastal capital of Kuo Kuana. He steps through a shadowy portal in a nest of palm trees, unseen by anyone as is preferred. He knows anyone sensitive enough would be aware of him, but unless they were the ones who called, he didn't have the time or means to care. With his customary slump he stalks out into the open, blinking at the harsh tropical sun burning down on him from a partly cloudy sky.

The magic pulls him out onto the docks, tugging him towards the edge of the pier and what he thinks might be a smaller than average but less than modest Junk only a few yards out. He hates warping, but does it anyway to spare himself the spectacle of walking across the calm shallows to reach the boat. With a pop of crimson and black smoke he reappears on the deck, spooking the only two ship hands that appeared to be present. He knows what they are, knows the man with orange hair and dark skin is only human while his massive, Mistrali looking counterpart was anything but. Thankfully, before anyone has a chance to say anything, the cabin doors swing open. Qrow spies a familiar beret and aviator sunglasses before he makes out the tattoos across Coco's face. Then he feels the magical residue around her, marking her as the one who summoned him.

Coco lowers her glasses to look at him, a little smirk forming. "Didn't expect you to get here that fast."

"I try to make time for my kids." He briefly reminisces about a little girl training with the Wild Hunt to become a Sentinel, shadowing him for years before receiving her markings. "But I don't have a lot of time, so let's get to it."

Coco just nods and tilts her head as she walks towards the stern of the ship, a gesture he follows. They eventually stand across from each other, both leaning against the side of the boat with their arms crossed in the exact same way. The sails hide the sun so Coco removes her glasses, rubbing her eyes gently.

"So what's up, Adele? Is Velvet okay?"

"She's working on the mainland," Coco nods, "it was the only time she felt comfortable without me nearby, otherwise I would have contacted you sooner."

"What do you mean?" his brow knits, eyes thinning curiously, cautiously.

"You're still working the Cornerstone case?"

"Yeah."

"I've got a lead for you." and something like pride stirs in her when she sees his features stretch. "I don't have a name, but I've got a face, and I figured that would be more than the Hunt has right now."

"You'd be right. So?"

"Had a client about a year or so ago-,"

"What? Why so long?" He snaps.

"I'll get to it if you zip it for more than two seconds." she sasses in spite of his scowl. "Velvet had a reading about a year or so ago, and I knew just by looking at her that she wasn't human, but that's all I was certain of. Not that I didn't try to figure it out, because I did. Something was blocking me."

Qrow's expression sours. "And this woman asked about the Cornerstone?"

"More specifically, where it is, but she made sure Velvet accepted payment before asking."

"That means whoever she is knows the rules."

"Oh yeah, knows enough to put truth seals on some of the bills. And another reason I couldn't get to you sooner is that I found oblivium glyphs too. Velvet and I both forgot she had even been there; Velvet still doesn't remember, but, you know, being a Sentinel has it's perks."

"Still, you forgot long enough for it to count." Qrow grumbles, hating this more and more with every minute. "Explains why you had to make sure she wasn't here, either." Because Oracles can't rat out their clients, no matter what fuckery they're up to, lest they lose their powers. And if Velvet had known what Coco was doing, she would have been forced to stop her for her own sake.

"Admittedly, I took advantage of her altered memory too, but it doesn't breach my oath so, you know." and Qrow's subsequent nod offers a bit of comfort.

"So what did she look like?"

"Average height, dark brown hair. What stood out to me the most was her eyes, like gold."

One sooty brow rises. "And you couldn't suss out what she was, even with direct eye contact?"

Coco shakes her head slowly, seeing fit to put her glasses back on as a stray breeze turns the sail. "She had to have had a _hell_ of a glamor spell going for me not to see through it. Now that I think of it, _is_ there such thing?"

"Sure there is, I can think of three Witches off the top of my head that could hoodwink you without a second thought." he chuckles roughly. "Still...is there anything else?"

"Yeah." Coco chuffs. "She's the one that iced Ashita."

His eyes widen. " _She_ killed Salem?"

"Velvet saw it in her vision, and when she confronted her she didn't deny it."

"Gods have mercy." he exhales, the motion working through his entire, stilt-like body. "Well, if nothing else, that's  _one_ mystery off my list." The Renard Cabal could take care of that once he had delivered the news. "Is that everything? Can you think of something else? Anything at all?"

"Well, it might not mean anything, but there was fire about her. I know anyone with a grade school reading level can pop a flame from their fingertips, but...with this woman, it was like it was  _inside_ her."

Qrow's expression shifts again, his red irises snapping to Coco in a split second and holding her own gaze while his mouth thins into a stiff line beneath the stubble. That didn't sound good to him at all, and even worse was how very short a list of possible answers he had to these new questions. None of which he liked by any stretch of the imagination.

"I'm sorry it took so long for me to get to you, Qrow."

"Don't worry about it, you did what you could. But this helps, so I'm grateful, really."

"Can I do anything else?"

"Maybe." he seems to relax a little, shifting to his feet and unfolding his arms to put his hands in his pockets. "You haven't seen Yang around lately, have you?"

"I," her mouth hangs briefly, seemingly stunned by the question. "No, can't say that I have. But she isn't much of a regular here anyway, not on  _my_ ship that is. I mean, she hangs with Yatsuhashi sometimes, parties with us, but when she's here she usually stays with the Belladonnas."

Qrow seems to deflate.

A flicker of genuine concern moves across Coco's face. "Something wrong?"

"Maybe. But, just keep your head up, okay? If you see or hear anything, let me know."

"Sure, old man. I will. Should I ask Velvet?"

"But then she'll wonder what I was doing here in the first place, and that could be a problem. And you can't right out lie to her."

"True enough." Coco shrugs. "But I'll keep in touch, I promise."

"Thanks kid. Take care of yourself."

"Happy hunting, Qrow."

And he nods in appreciation before opening a portal and disappearing through it.

 

_(II)_

It's been too quiet today, Cinder thinks. She steadily, casually circles the winding stairwell to the tower, her hands behind her back, and uses a puff of air from the corner of her mouth to push a stray curl from her face. Yes, too quiet, too little screaming. Time to peek inside and see what Neo's holding up on, considering it was already after midday and she hadn't heard so much as a whimper.

The chamber door opens easily, with a surprising lack of whiny iron, allowing Cinder a rare glimpse of Neo with a look of surprise once she realizes Cinder's presence. The little woman sits at a table that she had brought up, an apple between her teeth, looking to have paused for a meal. For a moment Cinder just looks at her, unreadable yet curious, then her glowing eyes shift ahead. She sees Yang still chained to the table as she was yesterday, but the platform was now horizontal, the mechanism at its base adjusted. The Luck Dragon appeared to be sleeping soundly, something that Cinder almost found offensive to her expectations. She looks back at Neo then, her eyes skating a little lower to an empty phial on the table.

"No tears yet?"

Neo shakes her head, chewing leisurely.

"Did you try the water torture?"

Now she nods, signing. _She went into a sort of trance. No reaction since._

"Huh, never heard of that. What about-," she stops when Neo's hands keep moving.

_Because someone has been trying to summon her._

" _Oh?_ "

Neo nods again and points, encouraging Cinder to look for herself.

Curiosity plainly twists Cinder's face now as she takes still steady steps towards the sleeping Dragon. She isn't surprised by the lack of wounds on Yang's body; the blue jade inhibited her powers a great deal, but she could still heal faster than a human -her hair is looking as full and lush as ever as well. But, by the same token, she isn't surprised to see the half dried ribbons of blood around her mouth, having come from her nostrils. Cinder cocks her head, smirking a little with amusement. It was one thing to resist formal rituals, it was another to be barred from answering, and she had enough wards on this place to trap someone's last breath. The strain must have been incredible.

"Someone knows she's missing. In that case, we need to pick up the pace." but she sounds so unbothered, not even inconvenienced. Cinder still feels safe and hidden, which is what she cares about most for now.

Cinder tucks her hair behind her ear and leans over her slumbering guest, appearing to study her. She can see Yang's eyes moving behind the lids, thinking she may be dreaming and part of her hoping they're pleasant. She leans a little closer, maybe an inch away from touching the tip of the Dragon's nose with her own.

In the next instant, Yang's eyes snap open and her head jerks upward, whatever strength she had coiled behind the motion, causing bone to snap against bone, and Cinder's head to snap backwards as she sharply recoils. Then she begins to laugh at Cinder's groans of shock.

Stinging warmth floods Cinder's eyes at the thick pain in her face, but, strangely, she starts to chuckle as well. "Oh-ho-ho, so you've still got some fight in you, do you? Hah,"

Yang just continues to laugh sluggishly, her brain still frazzled from pain and fatigue and the magical tug-of-war she had been enduring for days.

Cinder checks her hands for blood, finds none, then wipes her eyes, still seeming amused. In the next moment she hops up onto the table, effortless, and then drops to her knees to straddle Yang's hips. The poor Dragon has no idea what's happening until she feels the cruel hooks of Cinder's fingers digging between her ribs, the pain snatching the breath right out of her lungs and making her body try to buck off the table. The wet smack and splatter tells Neo that Cinder had broken the skin, and shortly after she comprehends the hiss of scalding flesh. She stands up so she can have a better look.

Yang's eyes are wide open and wild towards the iron grate above her, irises burning red as she fights the urge to scream. The sounds that do escape prevent her from hearing Cinder calling Neo over, to bring the phial with her.

"I warned you." Cinder hisses, fingers clutching by a fraction.

Before Yang can even think to formulate a response of some kind, she's flinching away from the feeling of hands around her face. Then she barks in pain at the clenching hand in her hair, the hand that lifts and then slams her head back down with a heavy _THOCK_. It's dazing, painful, and it keeps her from resisting further. The edge of something cool presses against her cheek, snatching away the heat of a stray tear.

"I'm not doing this because I like it, Yang, really." her voice has changed, as dizzy as Yang is, she knows Cinder's voice isn't the same. There's something like the dull growl of a bonfire in it now. "Unfortunately, Neo _is_ , and when I walk out that door, you will be completely at her mercy. The kid gloves come off, and you don't want that. So this is the _last_. _Time._ _I'm_. _**Asking**_."

Yang blinks her vision clear and manages to focus on Cinder. The glow of her eyes is haunting now, menacing, and something about her face has changed. Her lips...they're thinner, pulled wider...her teeth. Yang can see the curl of tusks where her canines should be, and her eyes are solid gold. Gold like the coiling sigils she can see smoldering into view across her skin. Now she knows. Gods above, she knows what Cinder really is.

" _Tell me where the Scribe is_!"

"Y-you...you fucked me in the dark so I wouldn't see your magic tramp stamp. Bet you think you're smart." Cinder rumbles with a frustrated growl and flexes her fingers, now tipped in brimstone talons, pressing deeper. Yang traps the subsequent wail of pain behind clenched jaws. Gasping, she recovers, and sputters "Your _prison tattoo_."

" _ **Tell me**_ _, or I'll make you wish you had never been_ _ **born**_!"

Yang stills, incredibly so against the barbs of hot agony she feels -hot because the fire in Cinder is rising like her anger-, and she meets Cinder's smoldering gaze with her own. "Then you better make it count, or I'll return the favor."

For several tense seconds they hold each other's attention, fury and defiance in equal measure on both sides even as Cinder continues to close her fingers tighter into Yang's flesh, embers and smoke fluttering from behind her teeth. When Cinder accepts that she wasn't going to yield, she'll release her grip in one quick jerk, and the Dragon seems to choke on the relief as smoke rises from the burning wounds.

Cinder jumps down and starts in irritated strides for the door. "I'll be back at midnight, and I expect that phial to be full." she snarls, and tendrils of smoke follow her out of the cell.

 

As furious as she is, Cinder will pause at the top of the winding stairwell, heels together, stuck in the instant before she takes the first step down. At the strange, phantom tug on her thoughts, she turns, only half way around before stopping again. The fury leaves her, her appearance diminishing back into her more human disguise as she looks back the way she came and acknowledges what is there.

She had seen countless unusual things in her life, so it doesn't exactly scare her to see the silvery mist gathering just outside the torture chamber door. It's more so puzzling. That is, until she waited a moment and gave it some thought. Then it was only a little amusing. Cinder watches as the mist coalesces into something like a solid shape, just barely there, but a faint shape she recognizes though it looks to be little more than an empty cloak of mercury fitted around an invisible figure.

"Go back to your wall, wraith." she cuts a smoldering grin with the entity shifts, seemingly regarding her directly. "I doubt you want to watch what Neo's going to do to her, considering watching is all you can do now." and she follows it up with a heartless giggle.

 

_(III)_

Music and dance plays an integral part in the Arc family, going back all the way to Jaune's maternal grandparents, Maab Renard and Rusty Quetshadee. Both were natives of Menagerie, Maab being born on the north east shore with its Mistrali influences, and Rusty more to the southern interior where Caravan style was most popular. The two met at an annual festival and hit it off almost immediately in spite of their numerous differences. At the very least they got along enough to have a child together.

Gypsy would be raised mostly by her father, learning Caravan so she could join Rusty in entertaining tourists and add to their meager to modest income. It would be at the same festival that her parents met that Gypsy would encounter Noah Arc, a traveling musician that charmed her almost immediately. Everyone in West Shore thought they married much too quickly, but they were too happy to care. With that being said, it should come as no surprise to learn that it didn't take much time at all for them to start a family. After Gypsy became pregnant with the twins -daughters two and three by then- they thought it time to settle down properly, and with Rusty's passing they decided to move to Vale, where Noah's family would be close by to help them acclimate.

After the twins arrived, Gypsy began working towards starting her own dance studio. With her mother's help, Maab having become a renowned instructor in Mistral by then, Gypsy was able to open the Fleetwood Dance Hall within a year. Of course, there's nothing simple or easy about running a business and raising a family, but the Arcs made it look effortless.

Four more children and thirty years later, Gypsy is the only officially recognized master of Caravan outside of Vacuo, and has expanded her school's curriculum to include other styles such as Valen Ballroom and traditional Mistrali. Nessa and Trixie -daughters two and three- manage the ballroom classes with Jaune helping a couple times a week, and as for the Mistrali classes, Gypsy had to go outside the family for a teacher.

At the same exhibition where Gypsy received her Master's accreditation some four years ago, Maab had sung the praises of one of her own students. It was rare for Maab to brag on anyone, but once Gypsy saw Pyrrha Nikos dance, she understood completely. And then she saw the look in her son's eyes as he watched as well, and knew she had to extend the offer on the spot. Now, not only does she have a decorated Mistrali teacher, she has a daughter-in-law and grandchildren.

 

Gypsy is in her office, going over the previous month's books when one long, lapin ear tilts atop her head, turning towards the door in the second before a little device buzzes on her desk; someone just came into the studio. She closes the ledger and tucks it away in its drawer before stepping out, heeled shoes clicking on varnished wood floors. A beaming smile pulls her lips, shows teeth, when Pyrrha greets her, and though Gypsy returns the gesture her eyes are on the little ones, one in each hand and safely in their hefty carriers.

"Here, let me have one." Gypsy offers, hands up and open.

"Which one did you take first last time?"

Gypsy's ears cock unevenly as she thinks, unsure. "Let me take them both then."

Pyrrha exhales with a laugh, relenting because she knows there's no sense in arguing. The twins giggle and squeal, always happy to see their grandmother, keeping their blue and green eyes glued to her as they all head back to the office. Gypsy sets them down atop the desk, both facing her so she can lean down and kiss them both. She doesn't mind when they reach for her ears, lowering them intentionally so she can watch them tug with their tiny hands. Moments like this make her miss having little ones of her own, then her back creaks a little when she straightens up and remembers why she didn't have more.

Pyrrha thinks to correct her mother-in-law, thinking if the girls think it's okay to pull ears now they won't be able to break the habit later, but she catches her tongue between her teeth. _No, Gypsy knows what she's doing, it's fine, don't worry so much._

"Goodness me, they're getting so big." Gypsy sighs. "Are you my chunky pups?" she giggles when the twins laugh like they understand. "Yes, you're my little chunky pups,"

"Do you think I'm feeding them too much?" she sounds genuinely concerned.

"Oh, heavens no, not at all. I'm just playing with them, dear. In truth, I don't think you can _ever_ feed lycan cubs _too much_."

Pyrrha feels a little embarrassed, and doesn't realize it shows on her face until Gypsy looks and smirks up at her.

"And even though you're not, I might be tempted to when they come to stay with me, because that's what grandmothers do." the older woman laughs again and straightens. "Jaune did mention that to you, didn't he?"

Pyrrha nods. "I appreciate the offer,"

"But you're nervous about not being with them, I know. I hope you don't feel like you have to just because it's me asking."

"No, no, I don't, really." Pyrrha shakes her head, her long red hair tossing against her shoulders. "Jaune's right, we need some time for us and...and the girls need to get used to other family members being around, and..."

"And I'm proud of you for making the effort." Gypsy rounds the desk and grabs her up in a quick hug. "You have my word, the cubs will be back in your arms, safe and sound."

"I know you will, but thanks for the assurance." Pyrrha hugs her back and then steps away. "You mind occupying them while I change?"

"Oh, sweetie, twist my arm why don't you." Gypsy is more than happy returns to her desk chair, scooting it closer to the desk so she can continue playing with the Tema and Rahne.

Pyrrha would look back as she walks out of the office, consciously resisting the urge to do it again as she walks further from the door and towards the entrance, meaning to fetch her dance bag from her car. Just as she reaches the glass double doors, her hands on the handle, shadows fall over her from the far side and make her pause. For a few seconds all she can do is stare at the two men through the transparent panes, her supernatural instincts suddenly bristling hard. The wolf in her is telling her to run, to grab the twins and make a break for it because she knows what she's looking at isn't human like they appear. But all she can manage at first is to hold the door, knuckles white, ready to put her weight against it should the two men try and push their way through.

Then there's a shift in her wariness as the two strangers step aside, parting at the shoulders to make room for a third body coming from behind them. She is only partly relieved to see Jaune coming towards the door, and has no choice but to let him in. Pyrrha can't find it in her to say anything as her husband gathers her up in his arms and greets her, the two men following him in.

"Hey, you okay?" Jaune immediately notices Pyrrha's tension.

"Do you know them?"

"Oh yeah," Jaune's smiling as he backs away, putting her only a little at ease, "this is Yang's dad, Taiyang, and her Uncle Qrow."

Pyrrha looks at them, briefly blinking. "Oh. Okay. Why are they...?"

"I'm guessing they're here for me." Gypsy adds from her office doorway, she shoulder propped against it as her arms and ankles cross.

"Mom, is everything okay?" Jaune's eyes flit from Gypsy to Pyrrha and back again.

She wants to reassure him, tell him it's likely nothing serious, but that feels too much like a lie. She clears her throat gently and stands up. "You mind keeping the little ones a minute more? Let me have my office back?"

Jaune and Pyrrha both nod and start to fulfill her request as Gypsy gestured to her visitors to come and join her. Not knowing how long this would take, she asks Jaune and Pyrrha to handle things, at least until one of his sisters arrived, before closing the office door. Pyrrha stares at the door for a long moment, her unease coursing beneath her skin like static. It never sat well with her when Supernaturals showed up in her life unexpectedly, even if it wasn't directly involving her. 

When she's finally able to turn away she lets her gaze fall, zeroing in on Jaune as he crouches in front of the twins. He's talking to them and letting them grip his fingers, leaning in close so they can smell him and touch his face. Her anxiety ebbs a little, letting her smile.

"Hey, can I get some of that attention too?"

Jaune smirks when he looks up at her, kissing Tema and Rahne before standing up. The following embrace was easier, more relaxed than the first, they smile at each other and Jaune peppers his wife's face with light kisses before finally taking her lips with his own. She smells oil and smoke on him, what he always smells like after work, and it comforts her more.

"You should clean up," Pyrrha says when she can use her mouth for talking again. "Students will start showing up soon."

"Well, if we're quick, we can clean up together." there's a peculiar lilt in Jaune's voice, and that coupled with a waggle of his eyebrows makes Pyrrha roll her eyes a little.

"Nothing we could do would be quick enough to keep our little ones from thinking we've disappeared forever and having a meltdown."

"Hm. True enough." he sighs. "Guess it'll have to keep until we get home." Jaune kisses her forehead. "I can't wait for this weekend. It's still on, isn't it?"

"I guess so, yeah. Unless whatever Gypsy's into right now changes anything."

"It shouldn't. I mean, even if mom has to pop off somewhere, my sisters will be happy to take the girls for a day or two."

Somehow that makes her even less agreeable to the idea.

 

"We tried to reach you at home, but, clearly, you weren't there." Qrow grumbles as he finds a space against the wall to occupy.

"You ever thought to try using a phone, huntsman? Would've saved you time." Gypsy shakes her head gently, hear ears cocked unevenly. Then she addresses Taiyang. "Would you like a seat, my lord?"

"N-no, madam," he's caught off guard by her formality, "but thank you."

"Very well." so she takes her seat back in his stead. "So what can I do for you, gentlemen?"

"Has Maab spoken to you recently?" Qrow asks.

"Unfortunately, no. Why?"

"How well sealed is this room?"

"As well as I want it to be. What's this about?"

"Your sister was murdered, we're sure of that now, and we have a link to her killer."

Gypsy's blue eyes widen, her ears erect and rigid. "That so? In that case, I'm surprised you didn't bring my mother with you."

"She knows, and she's making some arrangements for...something. Honestly I'm too afraid to ask at this point."

"And Glynda?"

"She's next on my list."

"Alright." Gypsy nods once, ears still in place. "Now, not to be rude, but why are  _you_ here, Mr. Xiaolong?"

"My daughter's missing."

"Which one?"

"Yang."

Now the Faunus' ears lean back and her brow lowers. "So what brings you to _me_? You have a huntsman right here, her mother is Huntmaster, and, last time I checked, Malphasians are in the business of finding lost things,"

"Raven is still working the Cornerstone case, she can't get away." Qrow shrugs, his shoulders dropping like an invisible weight just settled on him. "And I haven't found anything either. I've checked all her favorite places, no one recalls seeing her."

"Which is unusual, considering how she is. Did you try Junior's?"

"First place I went."

"And we've tried summoning her too, multiple times." Tai adds. "Schnees were involved."

"Oh." Now her ears drop, almost disappearing in the bushels of curls covering her neck. "No answer at all?"

"None."

"Oh dear." Gypsy leans back in her chair, seeming to hug herself.

"If there's  _anything_ you can do to help us," Tai gushes with a restrained sort of desperation, "please. I'll give you anything."

"Don't worry about that. I owe Yang a favor anyhow, and even if I didn't, all you have to do is ask." Because no Witch with any sense would turn down an opportunity to earn brownie points with a Dragon, doubly so if that Dragon was the Xiaolong patriarch. "Can I guess you want a planar scry, then?"

"Can you do that?"

"I can." one slow nod. "But we'll have to go back to the house. And I'll need some things of Yang's, at least of yours." her ears tilt in Tai's direction.

"Of course, I know what you need. I'll meet you there."

"Me too." Qrow straightens a little.

"No, sir. You're riding with me, huntsman. You're going to tell me everything you know about what happened to Salem."

"I...yes, madam." he yields, knowing it wouldn't be in his best interest to argue. "Lead the way."

 

 

Author's Notes: I'm very pleased to say the reception of the story so far has been wholly positive. I appreciate everyone who has chosen to read, for those coming back from the Embers ride or just getting on board for the first time. Welcome and, again, thank you. One of the comments mentioned how it's a lot to take in, and I'll admit that's very true; I do my best to weave in lore and concepts as I go, but there's a  _ lot. _ So feel free to ask me anything in regards to lore and what some of this stuff entails if it gets to be confusing, or if you're just curious. So long as it doesn't give up any serious plot points, I'll be happy to elaborate for you as best I can. Catch you all next chapter!

 


	5. Chapter 4

Since the Cornerstone's disappearance, a large swath of the supernatural world had been on edge, namely those groups who could actually do anything to find it or keep the rest from finding out and starting a panic. All of the major cabals, the Cosmic Dragons and their various sects, and the White Fang were the domestic parties at work on Remnant, each doing their part to fulfill both aforementioned goals. The Witches and Dragons and other sentient magical creatures could easily do this, the Cabals having well established public faces while the Dragons and such could easily hide in the background and do the less...easily explained things such as moving across the planes and talking to the dead.

The White Fang, however, had these advantages in spades. Much like Witches, they had a face the world recognized and respected, the agency best known for privatized military and security contracts as far as the mundane world could tell. In terms of the supernatural, they cornered the market on Shadowmancy and had the largest concentration of masters in the craft. The sitting Khan, Sienna, is a prodigy in the art and ran the more secretive ranks of the Fang with near flawless precision in tandem with the organization's public face, Ghira Belladonna. Presently, Ghira keeps operations moving same as usual, not wanting there to be any ripples that might make someone -anyone- think something might be amiss.

While Sienna has her proverbial feelers out in hopes of hitting some sort of lead, her power over darkness allowing her direct links to all of her agents. She knows the odds of the Cornerstone being on Remnant is exceptionally small, couldn't do that math to save her life, but she had at least a little hope in possibly catching a clue as to who took it. Someone pulling a job off like that? Not a chance in hell it stays under wraps for long.

The Khan sits in her personal alcove, legs crossed and hands folded in the space between her thighs, deep in mediation as her magic works. The room is dimly lit and dark, midnight blue. Water is pumped through a fountain in the wall behind her, falling from a stone tiger's open jaws into a recess in the floor. The recess forms an intricate design that takes up the entire floor, forming the elaborate outline of a flower that Sienna sits in the heart of. Her orange and black striped ears stand upright, drawing in the sound of the water to help her focus.

Those same ears flutter at something, a sound no one else could have possibly picked up on, no human anyway. She feels the weight of another presence, and reluctantly opens one gleaming, amber eye.

"Afternoon, Sienna."

Both eyes blink open and her brow furrows, concentration broken by mild confusion. "What are you doing here, Kali? Not that I'm not happy to see you,"

The petite, black Cat Faunus smiles and wiggles her ears. "I don't mean to disturb you, but I feel like the matter just couldn't wait."

"And which matter is that?" Sienna's ears cock to match the uneven position of her thin, dusky eyebrows.

"Yang's missing."

Brief pause as Sienna looks her over, her gaze lingering on the little box in Kali's hands. Plain, wrapped in brown paper and twine. "I thought that was just a rumor."

"I don't believe it is." her gentle happiness fades to concern. "Qrow was in the capital yesterday, came to the house asking about her. You know how much hates coming here."

"I do."

"And that was _before_ Blake came to me with it."

"Oh?" The surprise morphs into reluctance, her ears folding slightly down. "That _is_ unfortunate, Kali, but I'm working too closely with the Hunt to worry about that right now. No offense to you or the Xiaolong family."

"None taken. But I am here to ask that you give Blake some...leeway."

"Pardon?"

"Let her conduct her own search," Kali smiles again, "as she continues the work you have for her currently, of course."

"Kali," Seinna's lips tuck between her teeth, she's looking for the most respectful way to say no. "If we don't find the Cornerstone,"

"Please, Sienna. I understand the circumstances, I know how pressing the matter is, but," the elder Faunus takes a breath, her ears drooping as she exhales. "It's Yang."

"And her mother is Huntmaster, this seems more like _her_ concern."

Kali scowls, ears snapping back and flat against her sable hair. "You know Raven better than that.  _We all do_ ." she says flatly. "I'm not asking that you call Blake back, just that you let her roam a little."

For a moment the Khan is silent, meeting the other woman's eyes without blinking, but not without a twinge of healthy, respecting fear. Then "What's in the box?"

Kali's expression softens, and she smiles reservedly. "Your favorite. Palmiers."

A breathy chuckle. "You bring those so I wouldn't say no?"

The air in the room shifts though there are no visible changes anywhere. Energy ripples around Kali, invisible yet tangible. "I brought them in hopes that I wouldn't have to make you say yes."

A little chill vibrates through her as she feels more than sees a glimpse of what she knows Kali is. What she  _really_ is. Just as she knows that Kali means to do as she pleases, because the list of people who can stop her is startlingly short, and Sienna isn't even on it.

"I don't like to push like this, you know that. And I'm not trying to challenge your authority,"

"No, I understand. This is personal for you." Sienna nods once, feeling the energy in the air settling back to where it was. "The Xiaolongs are lucky to have you care about them so much."

"Was that a joke?" Kali smirks, not at all offended.

"Not intentionally." she shakes her head then sighs, resigned. "Blake can act as she sees fit, just ask her that she not stray  _too_ far from her mission."

"Of course. Thank you." Kali bows her hear out of nothing more or less than honest respect, kneeling briefly to set the box on the floor, within Sienna's reach. Then she leaves the room the way she came, in a shadowy yet transparent ripple, leaving no trace.

 

_(II)_

 

Gypsy had made a conscious effort not to appear as anything other than the picture of calm as she strode out of her office and asked Jaune to handle things until she came back. He had simply nodded and accepted she had to leave without a question about it, which is how he guessed she preferred it. Though Gypsy could feel her son's eyes on her even after she was certain to be out of his field of vision.

Taiyang went his own way as Dragons tend to do, seeming to vanish into thin air and taking the low simmering heat of his presence with him. Qrow follows Gypsy at a step behind, hands in his pockets with his customary skulk as they walk towards her peach colored Cadillac. He knows she's watching him as he gets in, seeing a slight discomfort in his motions as he simply isn't accustomed to automobiles. He slouches in the leather seat, hands still in his pockets.

His crimson eyes slide to her, finding Gypsy staring at him. "What?"

"Seat belt."

"Oh. Right." He manages to pry one hand loose of his clothes to pull the belt awkwardly across his waist until it clicks. "Happy?"

"Quite." she smiles and nods, strapping herself in before starting the vehicle. "Now," she holds her words until she's left the studio parking lot, "what happened to my sister?"

It takes him a moment to start talking, partly trying to force himself to remember the details enough to filter the more gruesome things away from the necessary ones. He didn't need to tell her every last thing, since Salem's funeral had been closed casket. So he trimmed it down to the basics. "She was tortured...for days probably." and he watches her, discreet, measuring her reactions. They're subdued and translated mostly through her ears and her knuckles as they pale when she grips the wheel. "At least she died quickly, though."

"At least." she chuffs cynically.

He feels a charge of energy roll over him, making him flinch. "But Raven thinks that's actually a clue about her killer."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Sometimes things have a habit...a signature I guess would be more accurate, and the Hunt is actually kind of familiar with the particular way Salem died. Except..."

"Except?"

"No one should be signing off on people like this anymore." Qrow shakes his head, seeming to sink lower in his seat. "You know about Changelings, right?"

"Naturally."

"Well, you ever heard of a Changeling Painmaster?"

For a brief instant Qrow would swear he saw her scowling, but whatever vestige of the expression that meant to appear just as quickly vanished, and her long ears snapped straight back instead. "It's been a minute. Think I recall Raven claiming to have slain the last of them."

"Something she was uniquely proud of, until we found Salem, that is. That means that one's still kicking around, or, at the least, someone who was trained by one before they were wiped out."

"But certainly a supernatural?"

"I can't imagine a mundane pulling this off, not on Salem. And I definitely don't see some normie knowing our rules as well as whoever this is."

"What do you mean?"

"Coco told me about a woman who came to Velvet about a year ago and got her to squeal about where the Cornerstone was."

The car jerks, almost to a complete stop, the huntsman lurching forward into the unforgiving embrace of the belt across his belly. When she apologizes he forgives her, not that he could do much about it if he didn't. He clears his throat and continues.

"But that's not the worst of it. She covered her tracks while she was at it, in ways that even the Hunt can't get around. We don't even know where to start looking and we're already a year behind her."

Gypsy is quiet for a long moment, looking to focus on the red light ahead so she doesn't acknowledge the little fury in her gut. The quickest way to get on Gypsy Arc's bad side is to mess her with her family -doubly so if you go after her children. She takes a quiet breath to maintain her focus, waiting until the light turns. "So is that why Raven let you come out here with Tai? It's better than running willy-nilly across the planescape?"

"Not entirely. Tai thinks Yang's disappearance might be related."

Her blue eyes widen. "...Oh dear."

"I know." And as serious as the matter is, he can't help but grin a little when he feels the engine rev a little louder as Gypsy puts more weight on the accelerator. He's quietly glad Gypsy understands, not in the mood to explain the reasoning behind it because he hates saying out loud how his niece should have never been born to start with. "Not to say I don't have faith in you, Gypsy, but I'm just...I'm worried. I mean, even a _Schnee_ can't get a bead on her."

"I'm not a Schnee." she replies with a sharp finality.

 

The drive is roughly a half hour, taking them out of the outskirts of Vale and into the fringes where the country starts to feel empty. The car rolls off of the paved road and onto gravel, rumbling and pinging with flung pebbles as it starts uphill and into the trees. The timbers eventually open up into a field populated by fences and livestock and a trio of barns, one of which serving as the main house. Just as the car pulls to a stop, but Gypsy and Qrow feel the warm ripple of energy that announces Taiyang's reappearance. He warps as close to the house as possible, feeling the repulsion of wards and other magical things distinctly Gypsy's that he has never been given permission to cross. This puts him only a few steps ahead of the car, where he patiently waits for the others to catch up.

The two men allow Gypsy to lead the way, knowing that a certain supernatural etiquette needed to be observed at the moment. This was _her_ property, _her_ home, and even Taiyang had to yield to the power of that fact. They wait until she opens the door, inviting each of them in by their full names and titles, making sure they understood they were only welcome "for the day."

"You have a beautiful home, Gypsy." Taiyang feels surprisingly at ease as he steps inside and looks around, relieved of the burden of the magic that was pushing against him before.

"Thank you, my lord." It's the same compliment she gets from every first time visitor, but she never fails to appreciate it. "We'll have to go up into the attic, it's the only place I could keep the kids out of."

The entrance to the attic is tucked behind a false wall at the back of the pantry, both Qrow and Tai making expressions of impressed surprise as Gypsy pulls the wooden panel open to reveal a ladder. Those same expressions hold as the three of them reach the top to find a well organized and tidy space. Bookshelves are systematically arranged and dustless, and china cabinets full of countless trinkets rank the walls. A collection of skylights allow sunshine to filter in and reflect off the glass in the cabinets.

"So what did you bring me?" Gypsy asks softly, like she doesn't want to disturb the books as they pass by.

Tai's hand is still in his pocket, pausing briefly until he pulls it out again. "Yang made this for Ruby when we found out Summer was pregnant."

Gypsy smiles as she reaches out and accepts the loop of braided hair, the golden weave soft as silk and immaculate. She runs the pad of her thumb over it. "There's a lot of love in this, that will help."

The trio continue on to the far end of the room, where a long wooden table takes up residence at the center of a semi-circle of bookshelves. Gypsy requests that Tai wait at the far end of the table across from her, instructing him to pull out the corner and having to show him how it's done on her end before he follows through. There's a heavy _clack,_ and Gypsy turns the top of the table, flipping it completely over on an invisible joint until the mechanism clicks again. For a moment both men stare with widened eyes at the few dozen carvings in the richly stained surface.

The huntsman looks at Gypsy with a subdued severity. "You converted Zerline's Atlas into a _table_? And hid it in your _attic_?"

She nods once, smugly smirking. "And you had no idea it was even here until you looked at it."

His mouth opens to answer, but then it slowly shuts in resignation.

"I would've bet money that Ozpin had this." Taiyang is shaking his head, only a little disbelieving.

"He did." Gypsy chuckles. "But that's a story for another time. Let's see what we can find."

Taiyang and Qrow step away from the table in unison, just as they feel a little spike of anticipation settle in the same instant. They watch Gypsy run the braid across her hands several times, her ears ticking independently of each other as the magical energy in the room steadily mounts by degrees like static. Eventually it peaks and holds, seeming to centralize around the Witch as she carefully puts the ring of woven mane around her neck. There's a certain shimmer to her eyes now as she scans the atlas, briefly studying each of the symbols in turn to search for an initial pull, like searching for the light switch in a dark but familiar room.

Each symbol represents a plane of existence in the known cosmos, including some that had long since ceased to be or that were permanently shut off from all the others for one reason or another. Without touching the surface, Gypsy allows her hands to drift over them, all her senses keyed into whatever feedback she might receive. All the while the two men in the room watch, anxious.

Taiyang feels like a spring that's coiled too tightly and he hates it. Gods above, please, just let _something_ happen. The seconds feel like little eternities, and he feels ready to jump out of his skin when Gypsy's long ears suddenly snap back and her brow quirks. "What is it?"

"I'm...not...entirely sure." and the way she says that, the tone, only serves to make Taiyang feel worse. "There's...I've never felt this before."

Tai manages to make himself move, walking around the table until he stands across from Gypsy. Looking at the atlas he sees the seal beneath the Witch's hands, the carving resembling a lunar moth within a ring various blossoms. One golden brow arches. "That's...isn't that The Midden?"

"It is." Gypsy replies plainly, sounding like it's the only thing she's certain of.

For the first time in days, Tai feels a little relief. "That's Summer's home plane, Yang goes there when she wants to be alone."

"But that doesn't explain why she hasn't responded to the rituals. And," her eyes thin, "something is pushing against me."

"What?" Qrow straightens from his usual slouch.

"Just as I said, there's resistance...it's actually trying to block me _and_ my magic." Gypsy pulls her hands back, rubbing the sensation of pins and needles from her fingers. Her expression holds a clear grimness, her ears remaining at their uneasy slant. "Something's amiss."

Taiyang feels his heart drop into his stomach, almost heavy enough to push the breath from his body. "But Yang,"

"To be honest, I can't be certain if she is there, only that it's where her energy is the strongest."

"Then I'm going,"

"No you're not." Qrow quips roughly. "No one's going to The Midden, no one's been _able_ to go there since the only Gatekeeper in Remnant that could disappeared about two years ago."

The three of them exchange tense looks with one another. Gypsy's ears sink impossibly lower, almost disappearing into the plentiful fluff of her hair. Tai has his bottom lips stuck between his teeth, half formed fangs pinching.

"But that means Yang couldn't have gone there by choice." the huntsman continues.

"So someone took her?" Gypsy thinks aloud, crossing her arms as she meets eyes with Qrow. "And if that's the case, they may have taken our Gatekeeper as well."

"One would venture to guess." Qrow frowns. "But it might just be enough to convince Raven to give the matter some personal attention, at the very least she should let go of my leash."

"Then let's talk to Ra-" Taiyang freezes abruptly, mouth still open, and there's a loud snap of static that only he can hear. "...I have to go, someone's summoning me."

"You go, I'll handle my sister."

"Thank you." Taiyang shuts his eyes and appears to tense. A few seconds tick by before he opens them again, looking a little puzzled.

"No teleporting in here, sweets, you have to go outside." Gypsy reminds him gently, fighting back a grin.

"O-oh, of course...I knew that." He sputters and blushes.

"Of course." She nods, this time tipping her ears forward as she lifts the woven mane form around her neck. "Take this with you before I'm too tempted to keep it."

"Thank you, Gypsy." he takes the braid, all but clutching it between his hands. "If you ever need anything, please ask."

"Don't give me that kind of power." she finally grins. "Now you best be on, both of you. I'll be around if you need me again."

 

_(III)_

 

A lot can happen over five days, one could get a lot of work done with even a little effort in that time, and while this is very true in regards to Neo and Cinder's work, it isn't wholly accurate. They have put a great deal of work into making Yang reveal the Scribe's identity, but that says nothing for the progress they have made. Which is to say they haven't made  _any_ at all. Cinder knew a Dragon could take a lot of punishment, even one as young and stubborn as Yang, but part of her had been certain she should have broken by now. 

Neo had gone through a significant portion of her sinister repertoire without success. Now the changeling has foregone the hands-off and complex torture methods for more basic means, but supplements them with tools of both mundane and magical nature. She favors the vajra, a small but powerful artifact that channels electricity seemingly out of nowhere. She pokes and prods at Yang's naked sides, blinking at the sparks that fly, sometimes leaving red blossoms on the Dragon's human skin while contemplating how much farther she could push the envelope. When Neo wants some amusement during the rare breaks she takes, she'll sit on the table where her other instruments lay sorted in a row and throw little bo shuriken at Yang.  _Usually_ she hits the wooden platform, making Yang jump, but she occasionally -not so accidentally- hits flesh and gets a silent giggle out of the sounds the helpless Dragon makes. Although, admittedly, the fact that she heals so quickly takes some of the enjoyment out of it.

As much fun as her accomplice is having, Cinder is certainly not entertained. She's feeling little tendrils of pressure, like her advantage is slipping, and she does  _not_ like that idea. Her patience is particularly thin today, and after perhaps an hour of watching Neo work, some little meanness in her snaps. She can feel brimstone boiling in her veins, frustration, and her teeth are curling into tusks again as she pushes Neo aside. She approaches Yang in predatory strides, her smoldering golden eyes meeting scarlet tinged lavender and defiance for all of a second before Cinder just lays into her. Heavy impacts echo off the stone walls of the chamber, ringing up through the iron bars as Cinder's fists connect with Yang's body. 

"Where is the Scribe?! Gods damn you,  _TELL_ ME!" 

Cinder feels the click of ribs giving under her knuckles, bones snapping clean apart, only to forget the sensation as it's replaced with the softness of Yang's stomach. She'll pause to let Yang gasp and wretch, starting again without delay once she gets her breath back.

Neo flinches from time to time as the beating continues, impressed by the severity of it. Cinder was in rare form today.

Panting a little, Cinder stops again, the skin on her knuckles split and reddened. She reaches up and grabs a handful of hair, lifting Yang's drooping head. Then her mouth twists into a tusked snarl before she belts Yang across the face with the back of one hand, the beating starting anew. One fist opens, talons exposed, and swings upward to connect with a wet  _WHACK_ . Cinder stops again, one heavy glob of blood dripping from her middle finger as it had cut the deepest.

Yang's head hangs, throbbing and heavy. Her mind is whitewashed with pain and exhaustion, and agonizing static rings through the rest of her body. It hurts to breathe, to blink, she needed to cough at the wetness in her throat but knows that will hurt too. She coughs anyway, an unwanted reflex, and tenses at the pain she both was and wasn't ready for. Blood spatters to the floor, some of it dripping thickly down her chin to stain her chest and roll down her sweaty, bruised stomach.

A cruel hand clutches her jaw, tips of talons threatening as her head is forced up and back against the wood. The torchlight hurts her eye -the other one is swollen shut so it doesn't matter- and she screws it shut, a shock of fresh ache sparking across the top of her head.

" _Tell. **ME**_ ." Cinder growls.

Yang just manages to open her eye enough to see, just so she can make out the blurred shape of the creature in front of her. She coughs again, this time behind a tight jaw, and cringes at the wash of fresh copper in her mouth before spitting it out. Yang can't help but laugh at the subsequent shriek of disgust, if you can call controlled sputtering laughter.

Cinder shivers with fury, one hand dragging down her face, smearing the blood and spit. Her eyes glow with rage at the sight of her messy palm, a heavy exhale casting coils of smoke into the air. She'll spin around, now facing Neo who is suddenly stock still and refusing to move, and march towards the table with an eye on the array of tools laid out across it. No hesitation, she snatches one of them in her claws and turns back to Yang. Again, no hesitation as she reaches for one of Yang's restrained hands once she's close enough, working the Dragon's human thumb through the circular opening in the tool that looks similar to a pair of mundane pliers. Cinder squeezes the handles together, activating the simple yet effective mechanism.

For a moment, everything disappears, the entirety of Yang's awareness collapsing under a violent shock of pain. She screams, for the first time the air is shattered by an unrestrained wail that is equal parts a human's cry and a Dragon's roar. The sound rips free of her, dragging down into hoarse whimpers before Yang devolves into shuddering sobs.

Cinder's rage seems somewhat sated now, though her eyes still shimmer like the heart of a volcano. She comes to stand in front of Yang, bending for just a second to pick up the freshly severed digit that has begun to morph into it's original shape -a golden scaled claw. That's not growing back.

"Now," she exhales, thinner, near invisible ribbons of smoke writhing from her nostrils. "I think it's best that you tell me what I want to know. You've only got nine fingers left."

Somehow Yang lifts her head, though it's quite clear that it's a hell of an effort. One eye focuses defiantly on Cinder. "Y-you...and you've got...nine chances left to impress me."

Her eyes thin and she frowns. "Suit yourself."

 

And as the day carries on, the cries of the north wall wraith will join Yang's, grief commingling with agony.

 

Author's Note: I don't know what this chapter feels so weird, but it does. I get the feeling I'm not spending enough time with Arkos right now, but I'll fix that in the coming chapters. The plot is on the verge of kicking off, so just gimme a little more time. Hope you're having fun reading, because I'm actually having fun writing again. Questions and comments are always welcome.

 


	6. Chapter 5

Cinder's kind didn't need to sleep often -they used to not have to sleep at all- but when they do it can be for days at a time. Though she personally made an effort not to, especially now seeing as she hadn't the luxury to throw half a week away in bed. Still, she had deemed herself deserving of a short nap, only ten hours give or take, and almost reflexively shuffles her still groggy self through the fortress to Emerald's lab once she was coherent enough to do so. Mind you, not having to sleep regularly means she doesn't have a waking routine either, so she's something of a mess. Dressed almost properly, but a mess all the same.

Emerald sensed her nearby and made a few small preparations; Cinder liked a glass of wine after a nap so she makes one and sets it at one of her smaller -cleaner- tables and pulls out a chair because she knows Cinder won't be quite able to do so on her own. She's more likely to throw the chair across the room than sit in it when presented with the need to pull it out in order to sit. Then just as the door to the lab squeals on its hinges, she starts stoking the fireplace. She watches Cinder carefully navigate her way down the small set of stairs into the alcove, eyes shut and her hand bracing on the wall, and can't help but smile just a little. She seems so mortal.

Cinder finds her way to the table, following the smell of smoke and wine until she bumps the chair. There it is, a brief shudder of fury and a flicker of teeth, but she tames herself enough to sit, more so flop. She holds her head like it weighs a ton, her mussed hair almost concealing her face as well as her arms.

" _Ugh_ ," Cinder groans, the sound dry and full of ash, "I hate this body."

"Yes, but you'll hate it a little less after you've had a drink." Emerald responds gently, coming to sit at the far end of the table, arms crossed.

One amber eye squints, glowing in the shadows cast by her hair, and zeroes in on the glass in front of her. There's a nod and a rasp of thanks in Emerald's direction as Cinder straightens, slowly wincing at the stiffness in her neck and shoulders as she picks up the glass. She takes a second to sniff it, figure out exactly what it is, then downs the whole thing in one smooth pull. Cinder exhales slowly after swallowing, flickers of blue flames curling around her lips as the fire in her ignites the alcohol. She smiles, seemingly more comfortable, then sinks back into the chair. "Thank you."

"Can't have you dragging ass like that all day, can we?" Emerald smirks.

"Gods forbid." Cinder grins lightly, pushing her hands back through her hair after setting down the empty glass. "I can't _wait_ to get rid of this shell."

"I know. Speaking of which, how are things? Awful noisy last night, and I'm fairly certain it wasn't _just_ the wraith."

"I haven't checked in with Neo yet today...what day is it?"

"It hasn't been a full day since your cat nap."

Cinder nods. "Last I checked, not so well, then. We're going to have to do something...time might be running out." she scowls, staring at the distorted flames through the wine glass. "How about your project? Anything?"

"I'm waiting for the ritual to resolve, then I'll know something."

Another nod. Formal spells could take anywhere from a few minutes, to a full year to complete, so Cinder knows there's no sense in bitching about it. "What are you trying to do to the glasses?"

"I want to tune them into the cosmic energy that's unique to the Scribe. We know the glasses can see it, but right now the spectrum is too broad. But gods only know if I can."

"Come now, give yourself a little more credit."

"It's not about my ability, it's the fact that those tears were taken by force. Things like that matter."

"True enough, but," she pauses, her mind still too sleep idled to finish.

"Well, whatever comes out of it, it'll be powerful. No doubt about that."

Cinder chuckles. "It's certainly a start."

Before Emerald can say anything else, both women look up and in the direction of the door, hearing the metallic whine of the hinges. Both are unconsciously counting the clicks of heels closing in, still doing it as Neo comes into the light and starts down the stairs into the alcove. She strides right up to the table, face neutral, and doesn't look at either of them until she tosses something heavy on the table between them. A mostly fresh, reptilian limb covered in golden scales, tufts of yellow fur and sprigs of black pinfeathers, and missing all five talons.

Cinder stares at it momentarily, then meets Neo's gaze. "Still not talking?"

Neo shakes her head. Then she signs, her expression tightening a little. _Bitch bit me._

Emerald has to physically catch her lips between her teeth to keep from laughing, while Cinder simply shrugs, slumping in her chair with resignation. Then her brow furrows and she goes quiet, her eyes closing. Perhaps a minute passes before they open again, appearing to glow with a noticeable intensity. "We need to go about this another way..." Because Yang only had so many body parts left, and Cinder had only so much patience.

Emerald's expression quirks, curious, more so over Cinder's words than the severed limb her gaze is fixed on. "Even with her powers bound, there's only so much we can do." She chances to reach out and take the arm in both hands, marveling at the cool, metallic softness of the scales.

"Give me a moment." and for that time Cinder watches the flames in the fireplace, feeling like it will help her focus. There's a loud snap from the hearth that coincides with Cinder's gaze shifting to Emerald. "How long until the ritual is finished?"

"A few hours more, maybe."

Then Cinder looks to Neo, shifting in her seat. "Keep the Dragon awake, I don't care how, and I want you to make it as unpleasant for her as possible."

Neo signs, looking offended. _No more blood?_

"No, just keep her conscious by whatever manner pleases you. I'll join you when I'm ready."

Neo frowns, making certain to maintain eye contact with Cinder, make sure she _knows_ she isn't happy, before the changeling turns and starts out of the alcove the way she had come. Both of the other women watch her go, wincing a little when Neo slams the door behind her as she leaves.

"You're going to have to make it up to her after that one." Emerald laughs. "You don't mind if I use this, do you?"

Cinder looks at her other associate and recognizes what she's talking about. "Of course not, knock yourself out."

Emerald smiles in a genuinely grateful way. "So what are you thinking?"

"Once I'm more awake," Cinder shifts in her seat again, straightening. "I want you to do a mind scry."

"On who?"

"Me."

Emerald blinks, noticeably surprised. "...Why?"

"You need to know some things before we move on, and you need to know them as well as _I do_ if this is going to work."

"I mean, as long as you're sure,"

"I am. I trust you." she gives Emerald a rare smile, a gesture that's returned.

"You're probably the only one."

"And that's simply _tragic_." and while Cinder's tone sounds somewhat facetious, she's actually sincere to a point. "But we'll be able to rectify that soon enough."

 

_(II)_

 

It's a rare occasion that Taiyang doesn't know exactly where he's headed when he blinks out en route from one place to another, but considering his hurry he allowed himself a little faith. The energy pulling him along felt familiar, and he found some confidence in that, otherwise he has no expectations as to what awaits him at the far end of the magical tether.

What he finds, initially, is a wash of white made almost harsh by sunlight coming in through an unnecessarily tall window. He blinks his vision clear as his golden aura dissipates and allows him to see where he is, his gaze almost immediately falling on the source of incredible, frigid energy that he's suddenly, jarringly aware of. Panic lances through him for a split second, a common reaction for any magical being that comes into contact with a White Witch -and not just any White Witch, but the one and only Willow Schnee. Pale blue eyes meet his as she sits with an immaculate porcelain teacup cradled in her hands, her legs crossed, statuesque in a staggeringly colorless suit that looked more at home in an office than this parlor. At the Witch's feet is a massive snow leopard, her companion, Tanta, the cat's eyes matching her mistress' as they stare at him as well.

Across from Willow is Weiss, a familiar face that only brings the Dragon marginal comfort -Tai had always been unsettled by how Willow's daughters so uncannily resembled her. She sits facing her mother, also with a teacup between her hands though it rests on the small table between them. Her eyes are on him too, but not with the naked envy of a White Witch in the presence of something she wants to control. It's more restrained hope.

Tai only feels welcome when he realizes Blake Belladonna is in the room as well, shocked he hadn't seen her first considering she was the only dark thing in the room. He sees the string of beads in her hands, recognizes them as the ones he had given her, and the last of his tension eases. However that says little in regards to his confusion; his current audience vaguely reminds him of a bad joke.

"Lord Xiaolong," Willow's voice is soft but it carries across the room, "welcome."

"Thank you." his response is reflexive and tinged with wariness. "Blake? Girls, what's going on?"

Weiss stands up as Blake starts towards him, the Faunus reaching into one of her many utility pouches to return the beads to their hiding place.

"Qrow was in Menagerie a couple days ago and asked about Yang," Blake begins, "he told me what was going on and my mom was able to convince Sienna to let me look into it myself."

"Oh?"

Blake nods, she and Weiss both standing before him now. "I started by retracing Qrow's steps and went right to Junior's."

Tai's first reaction is to question her, but holds his tongue as Blake's hand comes back into view still holding something. Initially it looks like just a piece of paper.

"I felt something was off the second I walked through the door, so I jumped the counter and headed for Junior's safe."

"I'm surprised you're still in one piece after that."

"I wouldn't be if he had caught me." Blake half chuckles, unfolding what turns out to be a Lien bill and handing it forward. "I don't recognize the script of the seal, so I thought Madam Willow or Weiss might know, but no dice. You were my next choice."

Tai nods and takes the note, flipping it over to see the dark crimson glyph written on the back. It took only a second for Taiyang to recognize it, never mind that he can't actually read it. Almost no one in the cosmos can. Still, he knows what it is and knows why Qrow never would have picked up on it.

"What is it?" Weiss asks.

"It's an oblivium glyph." he answers immediately. "Did you ask Junior anything about Yang after you picked this up?"

"N-no," Blake's ears flit back, "I didn't think to, I didn't know what it was."

"It's okay, but you might want to. If Yang was there, he'll remember it now, might even remember who she left with if anyone."

"Right, I'll be right back." and before he can offer a word to her, she blinks out of sight in a wisp of shadows.

Weiss is looking at Tai who is still staring holes into the bill in his hands. "How could Qrow not have felt that?"

"Because his kind isn't allowed to, it's written in Malphesis." he sees the confusion flicker across the younger woman's face. "Long story."

" _Most_ _anyone_ isn't allowed to." Willow adds. "But that leads one to wonder how it got on that Lien, seeing as there's only one complete cipher in existence, and access to said cipher is _strictly_ controlled by the Hunt." She sounds both intrigued and smug, and her familiar somehow mimics the expression on her mistress' face perfectly. Must be a cat thing.

"I know." Tai shrugs. "Raven's not going to be happy to hear this."

Weiss crosses her arms, brow knitting gently. "Maybe she'll do something about it now."

Tai looks up, seemingly shocked, then chuckles reservedly. Part of him wants to openly agree with her, but another part feels guilty; surely Weiss only knows what Yang had elected to tell her about Raven, and that had likely led to a certain bias. "She won't have much choice after seeing this, especially if it matches the one Coco found. And if Blake manages to find anything..."

Which she does, more than Taiyang could have hoped, but it brings him no joy. Even now when they have a name, a face, and a trace of Yang that they might be able to follow, he can only scowl.

Because he knows the name _Cinder Fall_ , as does Raven, and he knows it will draw her fury like nothing else ever could.

 

_(III)_

 

Jaune takes care to go about his evening routine as quietly as possible, the twins finally down for the night. Like most babies they would wake at even the slightest _notion_ of a noise, and that had only marginally improved over the last several months since they came home, so everyone in the house would all but hover over the floor -though Nora and Ren actually could if they chose to- to avoid any undue sounds.

He washes his face, mindful of the splashing water and the running faucet, same goes for when he brushes his teeth. He'll tiptoe out of the bathroom and the short few feet across the hall to his and Pyrrha's bedroom. He isn't surprised to find the lights inside already out, blinking as he oh so carefully closes the door behind him to swaddle himself in darkness.

"Hello again." comes a soft, familiar greeting.

"Hey." Jaune smiles, he always smiles when she says that. "Need anything before I join you?"

"Just for you to take your clothes off."

"Oh, well, since you asked so nicely." he gives a breathy chuckle, still grinning as he manages out of his shirt and boxers. He tosses his clothes aide, aiming in the vague direction of the hamper he knows is there somewhere. He makes his way to the bed and feels around for Pyrrha with his hands before climbing in.

Jaune knew by her tone of voice that she wasn't interested -presently- in sex, which he didn't mind at all. No, all his wife wanted at the moment was skin-to-skin contact and his closeness that he is more than happy to provide. He'll find the pillows piled up against the headboard and nestle into the midst of them, Pyrrha holding his hand the entire time before she crawls between his thighs and settles there. His loins throb once, twice, but how couldn't they when his wife is so soft and warm and perfect, and right here without so much as a thread between the two of them.

With a sigh of contentment Pyrrha's back lines up with Jaune's bare chest, his heat passing into her and bringing a body wide comfort as the blankets are pulled up. She knows she needs this, and it had been that way since before they were even properly mated. These days she needed it more often, and unlike before she _had_ to have it less she become noticeably irritable, even aggressive. No one wanted that, especially now with the pups, so Pyrrha and Jaune made certain to keep a routine.

Jaune kisses the top of her head once his arms are around her, Pyrrha turning to return the gesture to his lips. Their foreheads touch, their noses, she takes in his scent and kisses him again. His hands gently rub down her arms and up over her belly -over the half there furrows of stretchmarks that fondly remind him she's in some way human-, over her breasts, and does so in a repeated pattern for a moment.

"Was that Gypsy on the phone earlier?" Pyrrha asks, enjoying the feel of his hands.

"Yeah, she's back at the Warren now and everything seems peaceful on the extended family front. Still wouldn't tell me why she had to see Maab so suddenly, though."

"Hm." Pyrrha nuzzles a little closer, until his chin lifts so she can tuck her head beneath it. "Is she still okay with taking the twins?"

"Mm-hm, said she'll take them after the studio closes tomorrow." he smiles to himself and sighs. "Then it's just the two of us."

"You sound awfully excited to get away from the girls," she hopes the little laugh covers up her unfounded anxiety.

"Not at all. You know I love them, love being with them, but I miss you sometimes. I miss _us_ , and I just want _us_ for a couple days."

Pyrrha doesn't respond right away, shifting in his embrace to turn further into him, almost on her stomach. She listens to his heartbeat, counts it for a few seconds. "Of course, I'm...I'm sorry. I know you'd never feel that way."

"It's all right." his hand starts in smooth lines down her back now. His brow scrunches a little. "Are you okay?"

"...I think so?" though she's clearly uncertain. "Do _you_ think I'm okay?" she chuckles a little, amused by the absurdity she found in the question.

Jaune laughs softly in return. "I mean, you've seemed a bit...it's obvious something's bugging you -something _other_ than mom having the girls."

"Hmm...no, I'm pretty sure that's the only thing."

"You don't sound pretty sure."

"...I'm so transparent." she shrugs, hiding her face in his chest with a playful sounding whimper.

"Hey now, talk to me."

Pyrrha laughs breathily, stalling for time as she tries to find the words. "You know, let's just go to sleep."

She feels his arms snake around her, tightening gently and one hand cupping her shoulder to keep her in place.

"Please, love, tell me what's going on."

The soft concern in his voice hits her like a brick, making her whole body yield to him. She relaxes again and he takes her weight without complaint, the security of her mate's presence suddenly more potent than her ill at ease. Pyrrha lets him stroke her back a little longer, searching for the right words once more.

"It's...just a feeling. It's silly."

"No it's not." he assures her in a gentle, well practiced way. "Come on."

She takes a breath and lets it out, cheeks puffing. "It's like something is just...hanging over me. I don't know what to call it. Then again," she laughs at herself, "it could just be my anxiety as usual."

"Well, for the sake of the argument, let's pretend it isn't. Any idea why you feel this way?"

"Not really, no."

"Has it been going on for a while?"

"A few days."

"And it has nothing to do with mom?"

"...Don't think so."

Jaune thinks for a moment, quiet, kissing the top of her head a time or two as the minutes tick by. "Maybe it's about time you talk to a doctor? Maybe the pregnancy changed some stuff."

Pyrrha hates the sound of that somehow, in a way she can't explain, and it only makes that nameless peril in her mind seem that much bigger. "Maybe." she eventually says, her throat sounding a little tight. "Maybe."

"First thing Monday I'll get you an appointment set up, we can go together. Would that be okay with you?"

"Yeah, I guess." her response is a cynical sigh. She feels the gentle press of his hand along her jaw, encouraging her to look up at him, and even though it's almost pitch black, she can see him almost as well as if it were the middle of the day.

"Everything will turn out all right, I'm sure of it." Then he gives her a little kiss on the nose, and then the lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Pyrrha will fall asleep without realizing it, unknowing of how much time passed between Jaune speaking and her own snoring. But they hang in her mind as she dreams easily.

 

Everything will turn out all right.

 

 

Author's Note : It's shorter than the others, yeah, but I feel pretty okay about it. The plot's about to kick off, so either the next chapter or the one after is where we're going to see all the shit I've been shoveling hit the fan. Exciting, right? Thanks to everyone who comments, they've been really helpful, catch you all later!

 


	7. Chapter 6

_As a quick note, Yang is actually MUCH older in this AU, though Ruby's age is roughly the same as canon. Carry on._

 

Eons ago, back when the humans of Remnant were still scratching their sloped heads about what rocks were for, there was a Daemon named Malphas. The Patriarch of the Malphesian race, his knowledge of the cosmos and its magical workings were second nearly to none. The Father of Crows created his kind's own alphabet, Malphesis, with the intent of increasing his own power as well as keeping his kind's secrets that much further away from prying eyes. He was able to compile a single cipher before the Powers that Be found out, and they determined that just by the virtue of its existence, the cipher greatly threatened the cosmic balance.

Zerline herself handed down the edict, the Powers stripping all Malphesians of the ability to ever read the cipher or learn the written language to begin with, with the exception of Malphas. He was charged with maintaining the balance he so carelessly attempted to disrupt, and carried out the order by forming the Wild Hunt -to keep his word, both literal and figurative.

Now Raven, his direct descendant, stands in what was once his private chambers, staring with hauntingly similar eyes at ancient symbols she both does and doesn't recognize. Like Taiyang, she can't read them, but unlike him, she doesn't recognize it as anything in particular, and will forget all about it the moment it's out of her sight. That's how the magic works; all memory of it is freshly stricken from her mind the second it's acquired, vanishing as if it never was. But the fury certainly doesn't. The rage she feels right now will keep like a curse as her stomach churns and her jaw clenches slowly tighter, her molars creaking. With her arms crossed and a heavy scowl on her face, she lets her mind run rampant over all the new evidence she's been given. She finds a little comfort in believing that Qrow is doing the same, as his pose and expression are identical to her own. And, strangely, there's some consolation in Taiyang's presence too.

Eventually, after a tense, long silence, Raven's eyes lift -the sigils gone from her brain like a dream. "Coco confirmed the description Junior gave to the Shadowmancer?"

"Yes." Qrow nods once.

Raven's body expands and contracts heavily, as if breathing is like pulling against the world, and her exhale is a sound of resignation. "So Cinder lives."

"...Do you believe it's all connected now?" Tai has to ask, he had to hear her say it.

Another shrug, this one softer to get around the crow the Huntmaster is trying to swallow. "I do. The pieces fit together too well."

"So what's our next step?" Qrow loosens his posture, puts his hands behind him. "The Midden is closed off."

"I know. Is Glynda Goodwitch still on this plane?"

"Last I checked."

"See if she can do anything to help us open the gate, it's a long shot, but we can't risk overlooking any solution."

"What happened to the Gatekeeper?"

"She disappeared, but it would be better to consider it an abduction at this point, and Shaman Tanka has been after her for nigh on two years now. In any case, Cinder knows what she's doing, and her first step would have been to secure a safe zone."

"So she shut off an entire plane." Taiyang nods. "Then she took the Cornerstone."

"And I don't think we need to keep waiting for Oz's head to grow back to confirm that, but that's just my opinion." Qrow adds, and he looks to see both of them staring back at him, seemingly unreceptive to his attempt at humor. He's thankful they just return to the matter at hand.

"She must think Yang can tell her where the Scribe is." Tai continues. "Gods have mercy,"

"She's near the top of a very short list of anyone who could. But...until we can access The Midden again, there's next to nothing we can do."

The three of them look between each other, a brief and tense second, then Qrow nods. "I'll go spread the word to the rest of the Hunt, and Sienna while I'm at it."

"Good idea, and do your damnedest to track down another Gatekeeper, if there is one to be found. Happy hunting."

Qrow is gone from the room without another word, leaving behind only the echo of the heavy wood and iron door swinging open and clattering shut. Raven noticed all too quickly that her brother had taken some of her own comfort with him, and now she finds Taiyang more of a burden to share a space with. Just him being here makes her feel guilty, accused of several things.

"How can I help?" he asks softly. He knows she's feeling something less than at ease now, senses it like static as he always could. His sensitivity to her was one of the things that had drawn them together, once upon a time, because she guards herself too well and refuses to feel vulnerable; with him, she never had to.

Taiyang watches her staring at the floor, brow furrowed tightly, and her fingers curl slowly into her biceps. She's trying to swallow it all down, shove it into a place where it can't touch her.

"Raven,"

"Don't." she flinches, physically retreating. "Please don't."

Sympathy softens his face further, if that's even possible. "It's-,"

"You think I'm terrible, don't you?" she doesn't look at him, but manages to loosen the grip on herself and straightens. "Because I made us all wait and see."

"That's not your fault. You have a duty to uphold."

"At the cost of my own flesh and blood? And so easily too," the breathy laugh she adds to the statement is bitter, sardonic. "I know you think I don't care, but-,"

"That's not true." he cuts in. "I've never thought that."

"Still...Cinder is going to kill her. I know it. Just like she..." Raven swallows hard, trying to stop what would have been tears if Daemons could cry. "...S-Summer,"

He shouldn't, Tai knows he shouldn't because of her damnable pride, but at the moment he doesn't much care. He steps forward, meaning to ask forgiveness instead of permission as he chances to put his arms around her. Imagine his shock when she accepts, at least, accepts in a way that is uniquely her own. She doesn't reciprocate, but doesn't resist either, and tucks into his chest as if to hide.

Raven remembers this feeling, this sense of closeness and safety, and for a moment it's ages ago when they first met, when they were both young and stupid compared to the present. Back when the four of them, including Qrow and Summer, were something resembling friends; before becoming Huntmaster, before the impossible miracle of her own pregnancy, before _Cinder Fall_...

"Yang is going to die and it's my fault." She shudders in his arms with a curt gasp for breath.

"Don't sell Yang so short, she's tough, just like you. We'll find her." Tai does his best even though he knows she doesn't believe him. She's a natural born pessimist. "We're going to do everything we can, maybe even a few things we can't, and we'll bring her home." But he doesn't dare make a promise, not when even he -a living manifestation of Luck itself- isn't sure of the odds.

Raven has to push away, she won't let herself get too comfortable, and she's grateful that he lets her put space between them. "Cinder is going to be a step ahead of everything we do, she knows how the Hunt operates."

"Then we need to step faster, maybe get more feet on the ground, as it were." He chances a smirk with a lilt of his head. "I could...I can get the Mistrali cabals together, and I could ask Gypsy to spread the word in Vale, then there's Willow if she isn't doing that already -Kali too, for that matter. Sienna has connections in Vacuo and Qrow is already on his way to see her."

Raven's hands are fists at her sides, but not tight ones. Her scowl is tighter as she thinks and stares at the floor, her mind too busy to contain as she hisses "But is it _enough_?"

Part of Tai feels the question is rhetorical, because Raven has a tendency to do that when she's stressed or feels lost, which he wholly understands. But another part of him, the part that is still attuned to her, knows she's sincere. She really doesn't know what else to do.

"Have a little faith." He says finally, gently because he knows she hates to hear it. "And I know once you're able to move forward, you will. Gods help whoever is in your way when that happens."

By some strange twist of fate, Raven smiles. A little kink of a thing, but Tai knows what it is. For a brief second Raven wants to tell him she still loves him, that a part of her wants to try _them_ again because it's obvious he still knows her like no one else does. But the Huntmaster pushes that down just as she had before, letting him have her little smirk and nothing more.

 

_(II)_

 

Schnees are notorious, in both the mundane and the supernatural communities, for taking matters into their own hands, so one could easily imagine the almost smug pride on Willow's face when Weiss suggested as much in regards to Yang's disappearance. Weiss is in no way content to just stand by and wait for the Hunt to get it's act together, and, though she felt the need to caution her daughter for the sake of her own responsibility to the cosmic balance, Willow wholeheartedly agreed.

"Going over Raven's head will likely get the Powers' eyes on you, but I'd imagine they would make an exception if you can keep the Cornerstone from being misused." Willow strides unhurriedly but with purpose through the family manor, Weiss on her left and Tanta padding along on her right. Blake is just behind Weiss, ears back with unease.

"I'm having a rather difficult time caring at the moment, mother. Besides," determination furrows her brow, "unless I threaten some cosmic law or another, the Huntmaster can't stop me."

"True enough." Willow's smiling again, and Tanta rumbles softly. "Do you feel the same way, Blake?"

The Faunus' ears flit upward, mildly surprised at being addressed; Blake could count on one hand how many times her and Willow had spoken before. "I do. I'd do anything for Yang, but I'm sure you understand I would much rather Raven _not_ find out that we're basically giving her the middle finger."

"Hah! Indeed! Though giving the Huntmaster _the bird_ would be absolutely priceless!"

Weiss rolls her eyes; clearly her mother and Yang had been spending far too much time together. But the frustration morphs into a sort of dread, and all of a sudden her thoughts do a one-eighty and she's praying they will get to spend more time together.

Willow leads them through the house, to the far end of the second floor. Blake can feel the energy shifting around them, the fur on her ears bristling as she acknowledges a supernatural pitch in the air. It gains weight by degrees, every step bringing the three of them to its source until Willow pushes through a pair of wooden doors that groan open.

The Schnee Cabal is, at present, one of the only groups that have tempted the results of melding magic with technology, so Willow's archive is not much at all like one would expect a Witch's to look like. It's pristine, sterile, and in place of bookshelves there is a collection of servers and digital storage units. All of them lead up to a single terminal equipped with several monitors and a console that looked more appropriate for an aircraft considering all the dials and buttons and things. Willow only has to snap her fingers for the terminal to switch on, at least one of the servers starting to hum as the screens fill the room with a faint blue light.

Willow taps a selection of keys with one hand, still half facing her daughter. "You know what you need to do Weiss, so I'll leave you to it while I arrange some provisions for you both."

"I was hoping we wouldn't be staying in The Midden very long." the tension Blake feels is almost audible. Traveling through the shadows across Remnant is one thing, but planeswalking?

"Assuming we can get there at all? Taiyang said whatever is going on there is blocking _Gypsy_ ," Weiss chimes in as she now stands before the cluster of monitors, one of her hands moving to a roller on the console made of pearly glass. With it she starts cycling through files, knowing what she's looking for.

"But Gypsy Arc, Powers preserve her, doesn't love Yang like you do." Willow's expression suddenly shifts. "Unless something has changed since her husband died?"

Weiss has to stop and think, blinking at the screen before responding. "Not that I know of." Then she shakes her head, trying to chase the very idea from her mind. "Here it is."

"Better get started then, before your sister comes looking for you." Because one would be hard pressed to find a Sentinel more dedicated to their duty than Winter.

Weiss only nods, unconsciously listening to the sound of her mother's heels as she leaves the archive. On the screen is a digital replica of the planar sigil for The Midden, identical to the one on Zerline's Atlas; Weiss hits a few more keys, the image on the monitor shuddering as the screen manages to project the emblem onto the middle of the floor just behind her.

Blake cautiously approaches, trying to swallow a touch of shock at witnessing this. Again, magic and tech rarely mix even today. "Is this going to work?"

"We're not using it to travel, it's so I can recreate the seal quicker." Weiss explains. "You have something of hers, don't you? Something Yang gave you?"

"Yeah." Blake just nods, eyes averted for a split second as a slight redness tinged her face. "You?"

Without thinking Weiss reaches up with one hand, touching the lobe of one ear and the strangely warm surface of her earring: a golden scale. Each of them carried a piece of her, something intimate that would allow Weiss to hone in on Yang even from a plane away.

Blake nods again. "You've planeswalked before, right?"

"Admittedly, it's not my strong suit, but yes." and she sounds like she's not just trying to convince Blake, but herself as well.

"I still don't see how this is going to work." Blake is shaking her head, still staring at the mark on the floor. "How can you do something the Hunt can't?"

"I don't know." Weiss shrugs. "But I have to try. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky." and she tries a chuckle, hoping to ease some tension but feeling like she fails miserably when Blake just looks at her. She wavers. "I-I better get started."

For a moment Blake just watches her, partly mesmerized by Weiss' hand moving a piece of chalk across the floor under the guiding light of the projector. Then she shakes it from her head. "Can I do anything to help?"

"Have you ever been to the Midden before?"

"No. Have you?"

"I'm afraid it was... _some_ time ago, and it was only for a moment really. I was just learning to planeswalk," she pauses to stretch and complete the first of several circles. "But I have been there."

Blake crosses her arms and smirks. "Oh yeah, aren't you a prodigy who learned to planeswalk before her tenth birthday?"

Weiss pauses again, her hand stilling as well. "Seventh."

"Ah, my mistake."

"In any case," Weiss starts again, beginning to outline the lunar moth of the sigil, "the Midden is mostly old growth forest, not unlike Mistral. You've been there, right?"

"Frequently."

"Then, depending on where we come out - _if_ we can even get _in_ \- it will be _just_ like Mistral."

"And if we don't?"

"We'll figure it out." She uses the edge of one finger to adjust an uneven line. "In any case, you can use the console there to access a map of the plane, at least get yourself somewhat familiar with it."

Blake lifts her eyes to the nest of screens, her ears twitching. "Almost need a map just to navigate _this_." All the same she approaches it, hesitating but a moment before she hits a couple keys. It takes some doing, and few huffs of frustration, but eventually she finds what she's looking for and starts to study the digitally recreated image of an ancient map on one of the other screens.

Once Weiss has finished she'll come to stand beside Blake, refreshing her own memory of the place, rattling off several strings of information when Blake asks for them. The Midden is the home plane for most if not all Fae folk, even those that dwell on Remnant can trace their lines back to it. It's a place of mystery and incredible risk, something as simple as introducing yourself could land you in serious trouble, but it is also a plane of wondrous beauty. However, the one time Weiss had visited the Midden as a child had been part of tradition, where she added her name to a longstanding treaty between White Witches and the Fae that had ended centuries of callous hunting of other magical creatures native to the plane, so she didn't have much time to really appreciate it.

But she's confident that her memory of the trip is mostly intact, which is more than Blake had to work with for the time being.

 _Oh gods, I'm leading my girlfriend's girlfriend to -likely- rescue my girlfriend._ The reality hits the young Witch like a house, and as much as she hates using that euphemism, it's the only way she knows how to accurately describe the feeling. She and Blake were, by no means, estranged, but they certainly aren't as close as they were to Yang. Something about being the authority on this matter just didn't feel right, would Blake trust her?

"I can _hear_ you worrying." Blake says softly, eyes still trained on the screen.

"Schnees do not _worry_ , they calculate risk." Willow announces as she comes strolling back into the room. "Now, my dear, I've packed you both enough rations for about a week, though I pray you won't have to be gone that long. If you should run out, however, _do_ be careful when you're foraging." Because the last thing she needed was her daughter becoming Fae.

Weiss straightens and brushes any creases out of her clothes, waiting for her mother to come close enough before accepting one of the backpacks Willow carried. "Yes, mother, of course."

Willow nods, her eyes set with a touch of resigned concern. She'll pass the other pack to Blake, "Also," and then half turn to Tanta, the snow leopard standing beside her with something in her mouth, "I think you'll need this."

Weiss' eyes steadily widen as her mother takes the heavy, leather clad length of a sword from her familiar, letting the weapon rest in both hands as she presents it forward. "M-Myrtenaster...you think I'm ready?"

"I do. And I think the only reason I hadn't done this sooner is because I didn't see the need. Matters never seemed this serious before." When Weiss takes the sword her hands fold in front of her. "I don't know who this Cinder Fall is, but I mean to take Lord Xiao Long's reaction to her mention as a word of warning. I want to make sure you're prepared."

For a moment Weiss is too awestruck to speak; she can count on one hand the number of times she had been able to lay hands on it, and now her mother was passing it on to her. Myrtenaster has been in the Schnee Family since...forever? It was made before the Schnee name even existed, so who knew for sure? In any case, this, to Weiss, is a huge responsibility, but also an incredible honor and show of trust. She manages to swallow down the butterflies and look her mother in the eye. "I'll do my best, I won't disappoint you."

"I should be the _last_ person you're concerned with pleasing." Willow chuckles, controlling the urge to feel like this is indeed all about _her_ -Schnees can be a vain bunch sometimes. "This isn't about me, or the company, or the cabal...it's about the woman you love."

Weiss blushes a little, not caring that her mother can likely see the red splotches forming on her cheeks.

"Bring your sunshine home," Willow steps forward, putting her hands beneath Weiss' as they continue to hold Myrtenaster, her fingers forming around to supplement her daughter's grip. "And if this Cinder Fall, or anyone else, has caused Yang _any_ suffering," That quiet concern suddenly morphs, the pale iciness of Willow's eyes suddenly so vibrant, "see to it that you repay it threefold."

"I will, mother."

Willow will watch with visible pride, Tanta beside her replicating the expression in her own way, as Weiss leads Blake to stand within the circle of the sigil on the floor. They face each other, holding hands as is often the way of things with magic, and the Schnee Matriarch feels the pitch in energy in the room that coincides with the images on the still working monitors to scramble. The air in the room starts to stir, spinning in little gusts at first, and then begins to whistle with steadily growing force. The seal beneath their feet flickers and flares, then glows in a kaleidoscope of gold and green.

Weiss almost immediately senses resistance; once her powers reach out it is quickly repulsed. But she keeps pushing. Magic rebounds and crackles along her nerves, borderline painful, but she refuses to retreat. With one last heave of her very soul, focusing on the faint glimmer of Yang in the ether, the invisible path from Remnant to The Midden opens to her, and a column of light erupts from the seal that swallows her and Blake whole.

 

_(III)_

 

She hadn't been sleeping, but she had been in bed. Cinder had been lounging comfortably against a literal pile of pillows, Emerald's cold blooded self tucked against her, when an incredible pain ripped through her. Cinder jackknifes off the bed and tumbles to the stone floor with a tearing shriek, the marks hidden in her skin glowing to searing brilliance and even hissing as coils of steam rise from the seals carved along the length of her spine. But it isn't heat Cinder feels, it's a chill more frigid than the touch of Death itself, and it's so cold it _burns_.

Even with all the commotion, Emerald is slow to fully wake -her kind is like that, some losing centuries to a nap. But once her awareness is in full swing she's up and out of bed in a flash, rounding quickly to the far side to where Cinder lay, now face up and spreadeagled, panting heavily through a clenched jaw of tusks and fangs, her eyes wide with pain and shock as they smolder with a solid gold fury that's only begun to build.

At first, Emerald isn't sure what to do. "C-Cinder,"

" _Shirt_." she hisses forcefully.

Emerald scrambles to find her clothes, snatching what she hopes is a shirt off the floor and bringing it to her. Stiffly Cinder rolls onto her elbows and knees, her head still hanging as she whips out her hand and takes the garment Emerald offers. Smoke is starting to coil around her teeth when she gets to her feet, jerking the tunic over her head. Emerald will watch her skulk out of the room with a startling grace, swallowing loud enough to hear once she's out of sight. Gods above, she is _so_ angry.

 

Cinder will remain on this floor, stalking the halls like a blooded hound, still golden eyes set forward and lips twisted into a tusky snarl. The sigils on her body are still livid, lighting the night-dimmed corridor, and her frame throbs with both rage and pain, and those feelings only surge as she nears her destination. The closed, heavy wooden door she finds is no match for her anger, and blasts apart under the impact of her fist. The lanterns in the room are lit, meaning the occupant is awake, and the once calm flames within the iron and glass flare and growl in Cinder's presence. And there in the roiling glow beside the lone and simple bed, is a Faunus woman trembling in her nightclothes.

" _You useless scrap of manimal_ _ **trash**_!" Cinder bellows as she advances, the glow of a bonfire in her throat and morphing her voice with rumbles and crackling sparks. " _What made you think I wouldn't fucking feel it_?!" And she punctuates the question with a hard swing of her hand, her knuckles connecting with cheekbone and sending the other woman to the floor.

Cinder looms over her, still fuming, smoke rising to the ceiling and filling the room with the pungency of ash and brimstone. With a snap of her fangs Cinder snatches a handful of cloth and hoists the dazed woman just enough to have proper leverage to lay a couple more solid blows to her face, the last one resounding with a wet pop and the snap of bone.

"You _dare_ let a _**Schnee**_ cross over onto _my plane_?!" When she doesn't get an answer quick enough, Cinder hoists her up and puts her hard to the nearest wall. "You better have a _**damn**_ good explanation, or I'm going to turn that lovely tail of yours into an _otter skin purse_." And, truthfully, the low register of that last threat is somehow more terrifying than the screaming.

Tag sputters on the blood in her mouth, trying to suppress it as best she can so it doesn't get on Cinder and earn her another round of beating. "I f-felt it too. Tried to stop it, but there's only so much I can do against planeswalking. I _swear_ I _tried_." she whimpers, tears starting roll down her bruised cheeks. " _I swear._ "

Cinder knows she isn't lying, knows she can't, but that does nothing to smother her anger. Her eyes narrow, nostrils flaring as she exhales and unleashes a fresh cloud of smoke and embers. "You are. _So_. _**Lucky**_ that you're still useful to me."

Tag doesn't dare respond, even if she had something to say she wouldn't have the guts to let it out. Not when Cinder's glowing like a furnace, all eyes and teeth, and looking to have her horns starting to push up through her hair.

"This _won't_ happen again." Cinder growls slowly.

Tag shakes her head quickly, hoping it's enough of an answer to satisfy her, almost relieved when Cinder looses her grip and lets her hit the floor. Tag flinches away when Cider turns and stalks back the way she had come, lingering in the doorway to say one last thing. "Don't sleep too soundly, I'll have work for you soon."

This time she just nods, chin tucked and eyes shut, unable to open them until Cinder is gone. She'll flinch again when she hears the harsh echo of Cinder screaming in the hallway for Emerald.

 

Emerald is hopping as fast as she can in an attempt to pull up her pants and not fall flat on her face at the same time as heeding Cinder's summons. When she catches up Cinder simply walks on, expecting her to follow.

"There's a Schnee in The Midden." Cinder seethes, though she sounds to be calming a little.

" _Oh_." she feels a surge of heat across her skin and suddenly can't keep her eyes anywhere but on the floor ahead of her. "Any idea which one?"

"Doesn't matter, she dies." Cinder says succinctly. "Send Adam."

Emerald feels the small hairs on her neck bristle. "A-alright...now?"

" _Obviously_. Then meet me in the tower."

Emerald nods once, and the two will part ways in the stairwell at the end of the corridor.

 

Outside the fortress, along it's north wall, the Wraith materializes out of nowhere, creating its usual mercury silhouette. It lingers there, just outside the glow of the rampart torchlight, appearing to look out over the forested valley that surrounds the place. Then, without prompting, it descends the wall and drifts across the grounds to disappear into the trees.

 

_(--)_

"Weiss? Weiss, c'mon, get up."

It sounds like a distant echo, but she understands. She understands that she doesn't like the sound of it as it feels like it's rattling her eardrums and making her brain burn. As more of her senses come into focus the less she wants them too, feeling a dull crackle of pain beneath her skin as her body bows in on itself.

"Weiss, _please_ , we can't stay here." there it is again, making her ears ring. "Don't make me carry you."

There's a hand, Weiss' feels it's weight and with it a shock of static intense enough to make her body jerk. Her arm swings wide, warding off, and though her jaw doesn't move she tries to speak.

"Shit." Blake hisses. She wishes they could wait, but it's night; the forest surrounding them is alive with creatures she can't name, and they just happened to come through right in the middle of an obvious circle of large, spotted mushrooms. Blake has never been here, but she knows damn good and well you don't fuck around in Fairy Rings. "I'm sorry."

Being a Faunus allows her to see well enough to crouch down and start gathering the smaller Witch into her arms, finding Weiss surprisingly light. But she won't settle to have both of her hands occupied with weight, and so ducks her head and swings upward, Weiss' waist bending across the back of her neck with a reactionary grunt of discomfort. " _I'm sorry_." Blake repeats, hooking her arm behind one of Weiss knees and then reaching across her own chest to grab one dainty feeling wrist.

Carefully, so carefully, Blake tiptoes outside the circle and walks on, mindful of not looking back. She'll keep her eyes on the ground ahead, on the lookout for more because she knows they tend to cluster, and the longer she goes without seeing more, the more confident she feels to stretch out with her Shadowmancy. It lets her feel the layout of the woods, not just see, and allows for quicker, surer movement. Blake lets the shadows guide her to where the trees break up and open to the edge of a river at the foot of a waterfall too tall to see the top of. It's far enough from the rings that she no longer feels the buzz of their energy against her felid ears, so she feels comfortable enough to stop.

"Please...down." Weiss groans. "Throw up."

Blake heeds the warning as quickly as she can, not wanting a stripe of vomit down her back. She helps Weiss to her feet, then down to sit in the grass by the water. She waits, ears folded back to muffle the sounds she hates -sounds that, thankfully, never come.

Weiss holds her head in her hands, swaying even as she sits still. Finally she takes a composing breath. "Ow."

"Are you going to be okay?"

" _Ugh_ , momentarily. That was...something."

"What happened?"

Weiss rubs her face hard with both hands before lifting her head and clearing her throat. "Two things; one is that _someone_ was pushing back, and the second was a Gate Ward. Felt like being pushed through a cheese grater."

Blake cringes, her ears tilting out to the sides. "Can I do anything?"

"Mother didn't happen to pack us any aspirin, did she?"

"Let me check."

Weiss doesn't like being jerked as Blake elects to search her pack, but let's it slide as she simply doesn't have it in her to complain.

"Um..."

"What?"

"Does...a bag of salt mean anything to you?"

"Oh, yes, I need that too." Weiss nods and angles her hand back as a request for it to be passed to her. "I don't have the strength to put up a circle right now, so this will keep us safe while we rest a while.

"Got it." Witchcraft isn't her forte, so Blake just accepts it. "And here's your aspirin."

"Thank goodness." She happily takes the bottle, giving it a reassuring shake before uncapping it a tipping back head to help her swallow a pair of tablets. Without having to ask, Blake passes her a bottle water, taking it with a quiet thank you. After that she takes a moment to simply sit, gather herself back together and settle, before carefully standing up.

Blake watches her, initially curious to what she's up to, but the interest fades as Weiss opens the satchel of salt and starts pouring it out on the ground. She'll make a complete circle around them, just wide enough for them to be able to lie down without worry of breaking the barrier. Blake had heard of this before, unable to remember where or when, but she had also heard that circles like these were old wives tales and didn't actually work. But this was Weiss, if it didn't work, she wouldn't be using it. When she's done, Weiss flops back down to the patch of grass where she had been.

"Can you take first watch?" and the request is riddled with a whimper.

"I was going to." Blake smirks. "Get some sleep, princess."

Weiss situates her backpack just so, using it as a pillow as she settles further down and on her side. The grass is surprisingly soft. "Only Yang calls me that."

"I know. It's cute, it suits you."

"I was more stating a fact. In other words, I'd prefer it if _only Yang calls me that_."

"Ah. My apologies."

"...I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to sound so snappy."

"You're exhausted, I get it, don't worry about it."

"It," Weiss pauses, feeling vulnerable. "It's not just that. I'm scared."

"I sensed that." Blake's voice has softened. "Maybe once the interference of crossing over passes, you'll be able to feel her presence. I can, she's far, but not as far as she was."

Weiss exhales, actually finding a little comfort. "Good... that's good."

"We'll find her."

Weiss has a flurry of responses in her mind, unsure of which one to choose. Instead she simply reaches out until she touches something, the fatigues of Blake's black clothes. It's her way of saying _I want to believe, but I'm too uncertain to get my hopes up._ There's a spark of surprise when she feels the warmth of Blake's hand smooth over hers, leading Weiss to believe she may be feeling the same thing.

 

 

 

Author's Note: This chapter feels incredibly awkward, then again that could just be me because I'm so inconsistent these days. I dunno. Please, comments are really helpful, as are questions, so feel free to send them my way. Thankfully the reception so far has been positive, so I'm running with it as best I can. Next chapter, everything is going to -more or less- kick off, so it's probably going to be a long one. Hope to see you there!

 


	8. Chapter 7

 

Pyrrha doesn't like how uneasy she feels when she wakes up. She doesn't like how quiet the house is now that the twins are with Gypsy, and waking up _after_ sunrise doesn't sit well with her either. For a long time she simply lies in bed, staring at the ceiling and at the shadows cast by the sunlight filtered through the curtains, wondering what to do with herself. Jaune still sleeps beside her, seeming to revel in his slumber as it's rare that he gets to sleep in. He rolls over with a snort, half draping himself over his wife, unknowingly making her smile. Pyrrha kisses his forehead, smiling a little wider at the soft, happy noise he makes in unconscious response. Her mate's closeness and warmth wards off some of the creeping anxiety she feels, but not all of it.

When she tries to get up, Jaune's limbs cinch a little tighter around her, he mumbles some sort of protest as she resists with a giggle. She almost gets away when he half lunges and snatches her by the hips, pulling her back down in a fit of laughter; clearly he has been more awake than he appeared. Jaune smothers his wife with kisses and nibbles at her neck as he holds her against his chest, ignoring her half resistance for the moment because he loves hearing her laugh.

"Come shower with me." He hums against her throat.

"Breakfast." Pyrrha answers, still squirming to get loose.

"Shower, then breakfast. Give ourselves a chance to work up an appetite."

"But I'm _already hungry_." she whimpers playfully.

"And I will make _whatever_ you want, as much as you want, just come and bathe with me. Please?"

Pyrrha shrugs, but still leans into his hand as his knuckles brush her cheek. She'll relent in the end, eventually being led out of bed, out of the bedroom and to the bathroom by the hand. There's no need to bother with undressing, so they kiss and laugh and tease one another while they wait for the water to heat up. If she wasn't suspicious of her husband's true intentions before, there's no doubt what he's up to now as what starts as a routine shower becomes lovemaking. It's slow, almost reverent, they enjoy themselves in a way they haven't been able to too often since the twins -usually it was a quickie to be sure they weren't away from them for too long. It leaves both of them feeling refreshed, not necessarily _clean_ , but certainly refreshed.

The couple come down stairs, finally dressed, to the pleasant surprise of a prepared breakfast, Ren having just finished plating the meal as they reached the foot of the stairs. He offers to let them have the morning alone but is more than happy to accept their request to stay, and Nora must have been eavesdropping from upstairs as it's only a moment before she makes her way into the kitchen as well.

For a while, Pyrrha is at ease, and finds herself not missing the cubs as much.

"So what are you going to wear when I take you out tonight?" Jaune asks casually, but smiling in a way that is anything but.

She meets his grin with her own. "I haven't decided yet. What would you like me to wear?"

"Hm," he thinks as he chews and swallows, "I suppose something you find comfortable. Something you don't mind sweating in, seeing as we're going to be dancing." He pauses again to sip his coffee. "Something easy for me to get you out of because that's exactly what I intend to do when I get you home."

Pyrrha can feel herself blushing, doubly so when Nora snickers from across the little table they all occupy. "I'll keep that in mind." She clears her throat. "You've got tonight all planned out, don't you?"

"Mostly." he chuckles a little as well, loving the little redness on his wife's freckled cheeks. "I'm hoping to make this a night you'll never forget."

"I'm sure I won't."

 

_(II)_

 

Though she is clearly calmer now, the glowing marks and fierce features having receded, there's a noticeable force behind the swing of the tower chamber door as she enters. It's enough to give Neo pause, turning away from her work with a certain wariness. Even when Cinder grins in what appears to be satisfaction, the Changeling doesn't relax entirely.

"Still awake?" Cinder asks loudly, knowingly. "Good, now," the smirk suddenly drops to a gentle frown. "Neo, I said no more blood." she knows that smell anywhere, never mind that she can't see a trace of it.

Neo can't help but cut a wide, sadistic grin as Cinder looks her over, eventually settling that golden gaze on the glowing red end of the iron spoke in her hand. She begins to sign;  _I thought you of all people would know what burns smell like._

Cinder's smile returns. "I see." a second look at Yang's body reveals patches of glowing scales up and down her sides, between her ribs. They match the empty stump of her arm, where the Dragon flesh has healed up, impervious to heat unlike the human flesh it hid beneath. "You're too good at bending to rules, you know that?"

Neo nods enthusiastically, literally bowing and stepping back as Cinder approaches.

For a moment Cinder just stands in front of Yang, watching her dim lavender eyes swim aimlessly between heavy looking lids. Her chest jumps weakly with rhythmic breaths and her head hangs only as far as the jade collar allows.

"Poor thing," Cinder coos softly, "you're a mess, aren't you?" And surprise flickers across her face at the pitiful, but still audible growl she receives in response. Her subsequent chuckle is covered up by Emerald coming into the chamber.

"I'm here, had to stop by the lab."

"Not to worry, you're the master of ceremonies after all." Cinder can feel a swell of excitement in her chest, a sensation that doubles over as she half turns to see Emerald coming forward, the Minister's glasses in her hands. There's a brief anxiety as Emerald puts them on and Cinder waits. "...Well?"

"The ritual worked." Emerald lets out a breathy laugh, seemingly surprised. "I can see traces of the same energy as the Cornerstone. She knows."

" _Perfect_ ." Cinder hisses. She regards Yang again. "You look like you could use some rest."

"D-don't...touch me." Yang grinds out.

Emerald doesn't wait for a sign or command, and moves forward as planned because she knows she must be quick. She expects resistance both inside and out, so there's no surprise or timidity when Yang jerks against her hands as they try to frame the restrained woman's face. There's a monstrous bellow of defiance from Yang before magic flexes through the air and she falls abruptly silent. Fast asleep.

With this sort of magic, Emerald needed to work faster than an unwilling mind -the unwilling mind of a Dragon no less, which she has yet to experience. Without delay she mutters a swift incantation, confident that she can establish the link to scry Yang's mind; with Neo's close attention forcing her to stay awake, coupled with the sudden cognitive shock of unconsciousness, gaining access is simple as blinking. But, then again, getting in is the  _easy_ part.

A mind scry is, typcially, not too dissimilar to looking through a book; memories and knowledge are separate volumes and kept apart from all the other things that makes up a person's mind and personality. Cinder's reminded Emerald of a prison, access to everything strictly regulated and walled off, while her own had been described to her as a hedgemaze. She couldn't even begin to speculate the contents of Neo's mind, and she prefers it to stay that way.

She has no way of knowing what to expect from a Dragon, much less someone like Yang, so what she finds leaves her briefly in awe. Once her consciousness passes through a wall of static, it's greeted by the grandiose and vast manifestation of what can only be described as the cosmos itself. Galaxies and nebulas and innumerable stars orbit around a single, brilliant sun that likely represented Yang's psyche.

"Anything?" Cinder asks anxiously. She's teething the corner of her lip and even tapping her foot.

"Give it a minute, I just got here." Emerald replies slowly, distracted.

"...Is she pushing back?"

"Not yet.  _Be patient_ ."

Even with her mind's eye, Emerald is able to use the minister's glasses as a filter, scanning the celestial vastness for the unique glow of energy that would show her where to look. She'll catch the brief flare of a constellation on the far side of that roiling sun, deciding to start her search there.

Looking across the sea of stars brings a steadily growing uneasiness; it really shouldn't be this way. It should be chaotic, everything out of place and moving in the wrong direction, against the grain. All of her experience -and she has quite a lot- is telling her that a week's worth of torture should have left this place in an actual supernova of disarray.

_No way Neo's losing her touch..._

Then again, Emerald remembers that Yang is a  _Dragon_ , not a Witch or Fae or even a Seer; this mind is unique in every way, and counting on the rules for all the others applying here was foolish from the start. Now she's doing her best to work faster, anything to get out of this as quickly as possible before it became something she couldn't control.

"Anything?"

"If you keep asking, you'll have to wait outside."

Cinder frowns quietly, resisting the urge to growl.

And just as Emerald's conscious mind processes the heat of Cinder's frustration, it's quickly overshadowed by a sort of static charge. It draws all of her attention back to the task at hand.

Over her shoulder, Cinder perks up. "I felt that."

"Everything's fine." though she isn't entirely sure how true that is.

"I know, just stick with the plan. You can do it." and Cinder's oh-so-rare assurance is strangely potent.

Just as the constellation felt only an arm's reach away, Emerald stops, turning back to face that sun at the center of everything. Whatever is happening is coming from there, and for several tense seconds she can only watch as the celestial body shudders and shifts with waxing and waning light. Out of the solar flares emerges something like a comet, a long ribbon of stardust trailing behind it, but Emerald knows it isn't just some random thing, a stray thought, it's conscious. The comet seems to stretch and begin to ripple, becoming serpentine.

Emerald swallows hard, a thought that physically manifests as she tries to brace herself. She keeps her mind's eye on what is now, very clearly, the expression of Yang - the golden Dragon with a mane of fire and raven feathers- as it works its way towards her. Even at a distance she can feel the great pressure of the Dragon's presence, making her all the more aware of the power it could wield against her in this sort of reality. But she waits, she'll hold off on the spell she has primed in the back of her mind a little longer.

_You can do it. Cinder's right. You're the best and there's no one you can't fool. Just stick to the plan._

The Dragon continues to advance, making a bee-line for what it senses as an intruder. It's vision is blurred, unsteady from fatigue and incredible strain, but not so much that it cannot sense something amiss. When it realizes there is a tangible  _other_ , it snarls, and its once lavender eyes flash bloody red.

Emerald saw the immediate change, felt the shift in energy, and took it as a sign to spring the trap and pray. She thinks the incantation faster than she could ever speak it at the same time as she recalls the wealth of information she had gleaned from Cinder's mind in preparation; Emerald vanishes within the grasp of her most powerful glamour yet -powerful enough to manifest physically as well and make Cinder shift uncomfortably- and now hides behind the image of Summer Rose. At first the Illusionist doesn't think it's working, because the Dragon only continues to advance on her, its eyes unchanging. She's mentally holding her breath until the last second, when the Dragon drifts off its direct course to begin circling in a relaxed coil around her presence. 

The redness fades and Yang's consciousness relaxes for the first time in days, feeling comfort now instead of danger. Summer had visited her in dreams before as a memory, so this is nothing to worry over. Perhaps there were more Fae energies nearby to make this memory so unusually  _real,_ real enough to touch even. There's contact the Dragon can measure, a harmless hand through its mane as it passes beneath. More comfort, yes, Summer would never do it harm...

_Show me_

It's a whisper, a kind request in a voice that is faintly layered with something unfamiliar but missable.

_Please, if you know...show me_

The Dragon knows what she's asking for, and though it's Summer, it's hesitant to reveal that secret. There are  _rules_ , and surely Summer knows them.

_The Scribe is in danger. Help me find him._

_**You're dead.** _

The pulsing reply jars Emerald, threatening her focus, but she's quick to recover.  _I can still reach him, just as I'm reaching you now. I can warn him._

A mental snarl resonates through the solar system, the stars flashing wildly.

_**Dead**._

Emerald braces against the static that charges through her brain; Yang is starting to resist the spell.  _I need you to trust me._ She feels Yang pushing back again, but this time yielding only a little, inch by inch so as not to shock herself and drop the glamour. Cinder is frowning at the sudden but subtle shift in energy, uncertain of what's going on.

Yang pushes through the mist of sleep, her senses dull but still painful in a way. She can just barely open her eyes, her eyelids so damn heavy, and what shapes she can make out aren't anything like what she last remembered seeing. But what she  _can_ see is jarring. Her brain sputters on impossibilities and fractured reasoning; she  _knows_ this isn't right but...

"...Mom," the word emerges dry, tight.

Emerald's heart is pounding -what she does next could ruin everything if she's not careful. "Please, Yang. Please help me."

She hears Summer's voice, but something is still so wrong with it. "Don't make me."

"I'm begging you, sunshine." Emerald lays it on a little thicker, softens her tone a little more. " _Please_."

Yang blinks slowly, then starts shaking her head in a sluggish way. "Wait...you...no," then a little harder. "You're not,"

"Now, while she's still confused," Cinder demands.

"But,"

" _Do it_." she bites back.

Emerald reacts more than obeys, redoubling her efforts to reestablish the scry, but this time she punches her way through the Dragon's mind with all the force of a bullet. Yang's whole body jerks in its confines and her head snaps against the wooden platform, her eyes roll back in her head and her nose begins to bleed. After a few tense seconds, Emerald's does too. Nearly a minute goes by before the Illusionist's glamour finally breaks, collapses like shards of glass just as Emerald collapses to the floor under a wave of vertigo.

Cinder is there to help Emerald to her feet, partly surprised in herself for offering such a kindness. "Did you get it? Tell me you got it,"

Once she has both feet on the ground and two hands on Cinder for balance, Emerald nods. "I can find him, but I need a few minutes first."

Cinder laughs a little, almost euphoric. "Of course, whatever you want. I knew I could count on you." Cinder embraces her.

Neo comes back into view, strolling towards them and seeming to settle next to Yang who is finally still and quiet. She has her favorite tool in her hand, a steel stiletto, and she clears her throat to get Cinder's attention while raising it to rest against the Dragon's sternum.

"Oh no," Cinder shakes her head, "let her sleep for now, I'd say she's earned it. And this will make it easier should we need to harvest more parts, don't you think?"

Neo knows she means that to be funny, but the Changeling is hardly amused. She buzzes her lips and deflates, disappointed.

"Besides, it's time to put your toys away, we've got real work to do."

 

_(III)_

 

Pyrrha looks herself over in the mirror for the last time, nodding in approval at her outfit and with a touch a relief to finally have clothes on again -not that she didn't appreciate all the extra attention Jaune had been giving her. At that she grabs her scroll off the edge of the dresser as she passes it on her way into the hall, slipping the device into the perfectly sized pocket on her hip that she buttons closed. She smiles at glimpsing Jaune as he passes the bottom of the stairs, unconsciously quickening her pace to reach him sooner.

They meet in the space between the kitchen and living room, wrapping themselves up in each other with a soft ripple of laughter and a few kisses, like they hadn't been doing that all day already.

"Hm, could've sworn you would have worn a dress tonight." Jaune hums softly.

"Changed my mind." she doesn't know why she's blushing, only that she can't help it. "Or do you not like it?"

"I love it, green is my favorite color on you." He kisses her again after glancing up and down, admiring the way the rich green tunic hugs her frame in all the right places, like her black capris. "You're beautiful."

She blushes harder and giggles. "Thank you, you clean up pretty nice yourself."

"I do my best." and he knows she loves him in button down shirts, because she loves how it feels to undo them herself. "You ready to go?"

"Whenever you are." He watches her nod and responds with offering his arm, which she happily takes. They walk together to the front door, keys jingling as he pulls them off the hook. He'll lock up behind them.

Jaune opens the passenger door of his truck for her, giving her plump bottom a little support and making her side-eye him with a smirk. He laughs to himself as he climbs in next to her, more chiming keys as he works one into the ignition and starts the engine.

Once on the main road they start talking, not about anything in particular, just anything that spirals into a long discussion as they hold hands atop the middle console between the seats. Jaune unconsciously strokes the tattoo on Pyrrha's ring finger, the mark that matches his own that they chose in lieu of traditional wedding bands. He'll glance down at it briefly, off and on when he knows it's safe to take his eyes off the road. He can't help but marvel at her, at _them_ , it's humbling. He brings her hand to his mouth and kisses her knuckles, loving that she reciprocates in kind.

It's just before sunset when they arrive in Vale proper and it takes almost a half hour just to find somewhere to park. They finally find a spot about a block away from their destination; they don't mind, it gives them a chance to walk arm-in-arm and talk a little more without the hustle and bustle of bodies that's sure to be waiting for them at the restaurant. Just as they had on the drive over, they drink each other in, greedy for attention and affection, wholly unaware of everything else.

Unaware that, even now, they are being watched by the quiet, small framed woman with bi colored eyes that knowingly lingers several steps behind. Neo watches them through a set of glasses, watches how fingers of golden fire seem to hover around the man, tangled with threads of the same cosmic energy that came from the Cornerstone. The woman he's with is giving off her own sort of glow, but the Changeling doesn't feel threatened; surely she isn't anything Cinder can't handle.

Neo follows them until the pair disappears inside a building, seamlessly carrying on her own way to cross the busy intersection at the end of the block. On the far side she'll duck out of sight, slipping between a pair of highrises until she's certain no one is around to see her. From there she'll snap her fingers and disappear in a flicker of silvery light, the same light that flashes when she reappears atop the building across the one where the Scribe had entered. She eases up to the edge of the roof, getting her bearings before smirking gently and beginning to draw on the bricks she leans against with the tip of her finger. When the sigil is complete it gives off a pale glow for all of a minute, settling in place before leaving a black outline of itself behind. Then Neo shrugs, already bored because all she can do right now is wait.

 

It's quiet inside Shangri-La, but it's just before the dinner rush and Jaune and Pyrrha know the peace won't last. They're seated at their table relatively quickly and order their drinks, telling the server to take her time getting back to them for now. For a while they just continue chatting, nursing their drinks and playing footsie under the table, seemingly at home among the Mistrali style decor. At first it's casual, somewhat mushy reminiscing of their first date, and it eventually evolves into entertaining the idea of eating before dancing, mainly because they're both performers and enjoy being seen dancing almost as much as dancing itself. In the end they decided to do just that, placing their dinner order once the server came back.

Pyrrha finds herself lost in all this, in him, in a way she hasn't been able to get lost in most anything in some time. The anxiety that had been haunting her for what felt like a short eternity feels long gone, she doesn't even miss the twins as much. Maybe this is what she had needed all along, just time out of the house and alone with Jaune, with her mate. Time to remember that just because she's a mother now, doesn't mean that's all she is anymore. This free feeling only pitches as that night goes on, as they laugh and talk and dance. He keeps her close, leaving barely enough room to breathe between them, and everything he says is soft, missable to human ears but certainly not hers. She blushes and giggles, hiding her face in his neck all the while drifting further and further away from that looming dread of yesterday. After Jaune murmurs _I love you_ for easily the tenth time, it's all but forgotten.

"It's getting late." he says, tone still hushed. He smiles "We've been here almost four hours."

"Hm, what a way to spend an evening." she replies, eyes fixed on their joint hands drifting between them.

"Ready to go?"

"Not just yet." she smirks up at him. "One more dance? Then we'll finish our drinks and head home."

"Whatever you want, love."

 

The sigil Neo had drawn allowed for Tag's gate to open up directly atop the same roof, Cinder and Emerald stepping through just as the few stars that could shine through Vale's light pollution begin to flicker. The swirling portal of light collapses behind them, the dull roar of resolving magic enough to draw Neo's attention. Emerald is quick to approach her and she surrenders the minister's glasses, but Neo's eyes are fixed to Cinder. She starts to sign; _expecting to make a mess?_

Cinder snickers as she strides up to the edge of the roof, peering over and down into the busy streets a couple stories below. When she straightens again she adjusts her clothes, which now consists of darkly dyed leather armor mixed with the dull shimmer of metal studs and buckles, steel and silver like the arrows resting in the quiver on her hip. "Best to be ready for anything. Admittedly I'm shocked I still fit in this old thing."

_Is the mask really necessary?_

She adjusts the article in question that rests atop her head, pulled up and away from her face for now. "Just in case any other supernaturals are snooping around, they won't bother us." Because anyone who's anyone knows to turn a blind eye to a bone white mask in the dark. "So you found him?"

Neo nods as she turns towards the ledge, pointing down at Shangri-La on the far side of the street. Cinder spies the building for a moment, taking in what layout she can, watching from the corner of her eyes as Neo continues talking with her hands.

"Bodyguard, you think? Oh," Cinder snickers when Neo elaborates that she didn't _act_ like _just_ a bodyguard. "Any idea what she is... but you're certain she's supernatural? So be it."

"What do you think?" Emerald asks, arms crossed and looking at both her partners.

"We move fast." Cinder says certainly, confidently. "Snatch and grab."

_Can I kill the woman?_ Neo inches up to her, throwing on her best pout and bringing her palms together in front of her in a silent plea.

Cinder shakes her head, visibly amused. "You can certainly try, knock yourself out. I'll ghost the two of you, make sure you have a way back."

While Neo vibrates and squirms with excitement, Emerald only nods. Part of her doesn't like this, part of her hates that they're going into this half blind, and part of her hates that they're about to throw someone's whole world into chaos. But she forces herself to rationalize it; her own life had been nothing but chaos, Cinder's too, and they had a right to some form of peace just like everyone else. Didn't they?

Emerald sighs quietly and looks back down into the street. "Lots of traffic. Might be hard to go unseen, even if we hurry. Stopping it altogether would give us too many wandering eyes."

"Then turn the lights out or something, that's child's play for you." Cinder looks her over for a moment, brow cinching gently. "You okay?"

"Yeah, anxious, I guess." Emerald explains quickly. "We're closer than we've ever been."

Cinder smiles, all fangs and menace. "I know." and, in truth, her heart hammers behind her ribs, almost humming with the speed of her pulse. A humming that jerks when Neo snaps her fingers and directs their attention below. She immediately picks up on what the Changeling is pointing at, feeling the slightest tug of energy from the braid of Dragon mane she wears beneath the armor. Yes, yes, yes, the luck feels good, so Emerald's earlier warning of it possibly going either way is forgotten. She watches the couple start down the sidewalk, towards the half block of lessened light between intersections, then sharply tucks her chin, it's just enough force for the mask -a toothy carving of a snarling and horned demon- to slip down and cover her face again. She loves the way Emerald tries to hide a startled flinch when she and Neo look at her.

"Let's go."

 

Jaune and Pyrrha walk together seamlessly in spite of being practically joined at the hip. Their steps are unified, the impact of heels in time with one another. Pyrrha feels comfortable, almost like afterglow, and all she wants is to lay against Jaune and feel his warmth. Although that is a decidedly harder thing to do while walking, so she contents herself with holding his hand that rests at the curve of her waist.

"I can't wait to get you home." He hums into her hair before kissing there. "I bet you can't either."

"I'd be lying if I said I could." she is a _little_ keyed up, having been so close to him all night and unable to do much more than palm his chest and biceps. There's an insistent but tolerable throb between her legs that pitches gently at the idea of the privacy of home sweet home. But with that comes a steady sense of vulnerability, no dread, thankfully, just a feeling of exposure that she is becoming too aware of. Yes, home, that's what she needs, the security of her den. "I've had a wonderful time."

"Me too. But just wait until-," he cuts himself short, including his stride, in unison with the several street lamps along the sidewalk. "Whoa, power outage."

Pyrrha swivels in place to look for herself, and sure enough, every building on the block has gone dark, along with any lamps and traffic signals. All the light there is comes from the host of cars that are slowly coming to a stop, but even then visibility is minimal. "Guess we left at the perfect time."

"Seems like it."

Something in Pyrrha's mind is telling her this isn't right, not just coincidence, but she'll only allow her brow to furrow and nothing else. She isn't about to let her paranoia ruin this. She starts to pull her husband along. "Come on, I can still see just fine."

Jaune chuckles. "Good to know my powerful Alpha is here to protect me."

"Not so loud," she hisses, only somewhat playfully; there are still people around that could hear.

"Excuse me? Is someone there?"

They stop again, Pyrrha unconsciously putting herself in front of Jaune. Just ahead she can see a silhouette haloed in light, the flicker of light off the lenses of glasses, and the sight is enough to put the little hairs on her neck on end. "Hello?"

"Oh, thank god." There's genuine relief in the woman's voice. "I hate to bother you, but could you help me?"

"What's wrong?"

"This is going to sound ridiculous, but I have night blindness. Yeah, there are the headlights, but it's not enough for me to see by." there's a sheepish chuckle, but it does nothing to soothe Pyrrha's instinctual suspicion. "Though my ride isn't far off, really. Should be just around the block."

"Of course," Jaune offers immediately, "we were headed the same way, actually."

Pyrrha has to consciously stop herself from protesting. Now she understands what she's feeling more clearly; this woman is supernatural, but that doesn't necessarily mean she's a threat. She'll relent, though obviously wary, and extends the same offer to help. As the three start down the sidewalk once again, Pyrrha lingers just behind, but remains well within reach of Jaune. She'll have her eyes glued to the back of the woman's head the entire way.

 

Just as Neo's gaze would be stuck to the three of them as she creeps silently through the darkness nearby; most supernaturals can see in the dark, and the Changeling is no exception. It's near effortless to stay out of sight with a thick column of hedges and link fence between her and her intended quarry, but she takes extra care to be quiet as she still isn't sure just what that redheaded woman _is_. She has decidedly more experience with people when they were already dead, all their secrets since exposed.

Neo tails them to the end of the block, stilling long enough to watch where they head off the main road and down the next towards the parking lot she recalls from her earlier spying. The traffic isn't as heavy here, so Neo proceeds with even greater care, letting the distance between her and them swell a little to help hide the sound of her steps on concrete. There's the blaring of car horn from behind somewhere, loud enough and close enough to give her the confidence to move faster for a moment, letting her cross an empty lot. Another one a few seconds later allows her to hop a fence with next to no worry of detection.

Now she easily moves about, a shadow between the host of different cars, using glass and mirrors when she can to watch them, feeling her pulse jolt when she sees them turn to start walking in her direction. With silent precision she ducks away, drawing her favorite stiletto in tandem to a small collection of steps that puts a large SUV between her and them. Standing on her tip-toes she can peer through the vehicle's windows. They were almost in position.

 

Pyrrha keeps wanting to look over her shoulder, feeling eyes on her in a way that makes her skin crawl. _Something_ feels so terribly wrong, but she bites her tongue because she doesn't want to sound paranoid. This night was going so well, she didn't want to ruin it. But...

_Just relax, the truck is right over there. You're almost home, everything will be fine..._

"Thanks again for the assist." Emerald says for perhaps the third time, confident she isn't laying it on too thick.

"No problem, we were headed this way anyway, like I said." he nods. "So is this you? You're sure you're safe to drive?"

"I'll probably wait for the street lights to come back on, but at least I'm at my car and not just wandering into traffic." She shares a laugh with him, almost too aware that the woman beside him seems totally unfazed by the joke. _Is she on to me?_ _No, couldn't be, or else I'd be dead already._ But she can't help but feel that this woman is, at the very least, suspicious of something. Emerald felt the instinct to move, and trusted in it as she touches the rim of the glasses.

That feeling is back and it doubles over as a heavy, dead heat in Pyrrha's chest. But before she can fully evaluate the sensation or react to it, it morphs, _sharpens_ , and tears _through_ her stomach. The air hesitating in her lungs bursts free, creating the awful, wrenching gasp that made Jaune whip around inhumanly fast.

He'll never be certain of what he saw that night, only of what he felt, and what he felt was terror. But it was only for a second as a great force felt to focus on the back of his head and _push_ , throwing his head into the side of the vehicle he was standing next to, snuffing out everything.

A dull, hot pressure swamps her, and Pyrrha hits her knees to hard pavement after a short eternity of paralysis. And in that time she couldn't breathe, but once she feels the alien sensation of smooth steel sliding free of her gut, her lungs scramble to pull in air. She slumps onto her side, hands folding over the wound in her middle, and she shivers at the almost scalding heat of her own blood pooling in her palms. Within the pulsating static of her own throbbing pulse in her ears, Pyrrha can just make out the commotion of footsteps and words, but can't understand a single syllable. Her heart _pounds_ and tears of pain too great to fathom burn her eyes.

Emerald catches Jaune's now limp body across her back, grunting in surprise at his unexpected weight as she straightens with him now situated on her shoulders.

"Don't take forever with your little game." Emerald warns. "Cinder won't hesitate to leave without you."

Neo just buzzes her lips and gives a dismissive wave of her free hand.

Pyrrha's on her back now, frantically trying to focus and to keep the panic _-oh gods, oh gods I'm dying-_ at bay. Through the blurred haze of tears she can see the little woman looming over her, sees the movement of the faintest shadows as the other woman appears to leave. _Jaune...where's Jaune..._ _ **Jaune**_ _..._ Her heart rate surges as her concern instinctively shifts from her own survival to the safety of her mate. Her entire body starts to tighten in a hauntingly familiar way, and mild confusion flashes through her mind for all of a second as it struggles to process the absence of a full moon.

Once Emerald is gone, Neo looks down at the sputtering woman between her feet, a wicked grin oozing across her face. Her head cocks curiously as her victim grunts, the sound strangely animal...snarly. With glinting interest in her eyes Neo turns the metal spike in her hand, almost playful with it as she shifts to her knees to straddle the woman's waist. With her night vision she can see the shimmer of tears on her cheeks, the tightness in her eyes as they are screwed shut, and the dark dampness of blood in her clothes. Then there's that snarling noise again, and her night vision picks up the stark whiteness of teeth. _Fangs_.

Neo quickly turns the stiletto again, the edge pointing downward. Her curiosity had flickered into a purposeful concern. Then her expression becomes an exaggerated, determined scowl when the woman opens her eyes and all Neo can see is solid green with vicious black slits.

Pyrrha's body is hovering in the seconds before the change, when muscles push past their more human limits and threaten to snap, when the fangs come and pound within their moorings in her jaws. It's when her nails are too long to make a fist without slicing her own flesh, when her grip is like a steel bear trap. A grip more than strong enough to snatch Neo's wrist and stop the lethal descent of the spike towards her throat. The shock and pain and fear has transformed into fury and an Alpha's instinct to protect what belongs to it; a raw, primal force that easily tore itself free from the sway of the lunar cycle.

Pyrrha pushes, a chesty growl emerging as she opens her jaws to make certain her fangs are visible. Neo pushes back, expression still steadfast and fearless, but makes absolutely no gains against the lycan. Finally Pyrrha shoves, a punctuated thrust of her arms that sends Neo flying into the rear bumper of car, leaving a vague imprint of her body in the chrome. Both of them manage to their feet almost in unison, Neo pushing herself through the rattling in her skull, and Pyrrha twisting wildly onto all fours before taking three lunging steps. Just as Neo is pressing her back straight against the car, Pyrrha's clawed hand snaps upward in a powerful jerk, and there's the unmistakable sound of ripping cloth and flesh with the splatter of blood. If Neo could scream, she certainly would have.

 

Cinder jumps down from her perch on the corner of roof, down into still heavy shadows below, just as Emerald came close enough. The rustle of leather and metal made Emerald stop, panting from her effort to make it this far as quickly as she did without being seen.

"Where's Neo?" come's Cinder's voice from behind the mask.

"Doing what she loves, I guess." If that awful gremlin could love anything.

But something felt off, a little voice in Cinder's head is nagging her, assuring her it shouldn't be taking this long. Neo _knew_ they didn't have the time for her to dawdle. "Get through the portal. If I'm not back in five minutes, close it. I'll find another way home."

For a moment Emerald just looks at her, something human in her eyes. She wants to say _be safe_ , or something else just as sentimental, but holds it back. Cinder's kind don't appreciate that sort of nonsense. "...Alright."

Cinder is swift to disappear, moving too quickly for even Emerald's eyes to catch. Swathed in shadows she moves like a spirit, unheard and unseen, weightlessly jumping several cars en route to the lot that Emerald had come from.

She only had to pass the first row of cars before her senses are beset by the stench of blood. It's hot and heavy, unmistakable, and it draws Cinder's attention like it would a hunting dog's nose. Then she suddenly stills at the sound of boots scrambling on pavement, and there's something else she can only somewhat recognize; like an animal being shoved through a grinder. Neo comes stumbling out of the darkness, a wet squeak following behind her as her blood-smeared hands slide across a trunk lid to keep her from collapsing. She's covered in blood, clothes shredded down the front, and Cinder will readily admit to this being the first time she has ever seen real fear in the Changeling's eyes.

Neo's too frantic and dazed to sign coherently, her hands attempting to say something and failing miserably; they gesture around her face but Cinder can't even begin to decipher what it might mean. Without hesitation Cinder ushers her on, telling her to get back to the portal as she had Emerald -she knows Neo can make it, having seen her go through worse before- and then reaches for the scimitar tucked beneath the quiver at her side. Once she's certain Neo is well on her way, Cinder starts forward.

She barely has all her fingers curled around the weapon when there's a jolting groan of metal and a scraping sound that heralds a veil of orange sparks, all of it drawing Cinder's gaze to the source just in time to see the dark blur that leaps towards her with a glimmer of teeth and green eyes. Cinder cannot draw her blade before it hits her, all bulk and fur and muscle tearing her to the pavement. Her ears are full of grating snarls and gnashing teeth as jaws close around her head, the bone mask the only thing standing between her and serious harm. She feels the pull of claws against her armor, hears the dull hissing of the silver studs -now she knows it's a lycan. A lycan is something she can handle well enough. If she can just get the leverage...

Cinder's hands begin to glow, a flicker of fire cutting the darkness as she works around to grab the werewolf by any part she can reach. A loud, punctuated hiss is followed by a sharp, dog like yelp of pain as the hulking Alpha jerks away, giving Cinder the few fleeting seconds she needed to get back to her feet and reach for a pouch on her belt with one hand and her scimitar with the other.

The werewolf immediately lunges back in, ducking the first whistling swing of a blade and jumping to avoid the second as it comes back. With jaws open wide it tries again, catching Cinder by the wrist and pulling down with all its weight to set her off balance. Its head jerks back and forth as its jaws close tighter. After a second there's the distinct snap of bone and a grunt of pain, a discomfort that's swiftly returned as Cinder hurls something in the creature's face. A cloud of dust erupts from the impact between the werewolf's eyes to coincide with the shocked yip, and its clawed hands immediately start to rub at its face when the burning sets in. Tears fill its eyes and it's almost impossible for it to see anything except blurs of gray.

Cinder wastes no time and breaks into a full sprint, blade at the ready for a precise upwards swing as she goes running by, splitting the lycan's chest and up under its arm; if it wanted to give chase, it was going to have a hell of a time doing it with a wound like that. She'd stay to kill it outright if she had the time, but she was expected elsewhere and maintains a healthy clip out of the lot and back towards the way she had originally come.

Rage and now incredible pain swamp the werewolf's mind, the fresh injury only seeming to stoke its anger. Though it can't see much at all now, it has that thing's scent fresh in its snout and goes after it on all fours, just barely missing running into the metal fence surrounding the lot. The powerful strides briefly stumble, but just as quickly they steady and begin gaining on Cinder.

She jumps into the street, now clogged with idling cars, vaulting from roof to roof with next to no sound in hopes of confusing the lycan, and the mask does well to hide her genuine shock at the tactic failing. She unconsciously counts the heavy metallic crashes that quickly gain on her, but refuses to look back on the chance it will prove her suspicion of the werewolf being right on her heels. Cinder rolls out the impact of landing on the sidewalk when she reaches the other side, quickly hopping the fence that lines the path and disappearing behind the thick ivy woven around the chain links. The werewolf simply tore its way through, aluminum claws ripping at its hide.

From here she can see the rooftop and just make out the faint glow of the portal waiting there, that coupled with the distinct heaving breaths of the werewolf running her down is more than enough to put a touch more urgency in her steps. Her focus shifts from the rooftop to the barrier wall below it, and to the large truck between her and the wall; Cinder knows she can make that jump as she adjusts her path ever so slightly. She jumps up onto the cab of the truck, then onto the trailer it's hitched to, running along its length to its end. Just as she hears the resounding crash of what is likely the werewolf running headlong into the side of the trailer, she makes a jump for the facade of the building on the far side of the wall.

The werewolf scrambles up the side of the trailer, seemingly unfazed by the heavy impact with the vehicle as it's dragged along by that grating odor of brimstone that fuels its manic drive. It can still make out the singular movement of something in the messy sea of half color, pausing for but a second to watch a dark splotch appear to crawl upward against a wall of gray. It springs for it with a defiant roar, falling just short of its target and digging in deep with all of its claws to stop itself from falling. It madly climbs after its quarry, refusing to stop.

Cinder reaches the top first, knowing she has the seconds she needs to unlock the tiny hidden mechanism in her scimitar so it comes apart into a pair of blades. They're separate for but a moment before she brings the flat pommels together, golden sigils in the blades igniting to bind them into one weapon again. Without stopping her path to the swirling portal, Cinder glances over her shoulder; the lycan is gaining on her fast, just as she thought it would. Without thinking she times her steps, spaces them out just right in conjunction with how the werewolf moves, and holds her now glowing weapon in one hand while reaching for an arrow with the other. A bowstring forms out of thin air, glowing like molten glass as the notch of the arrow pulls tight to it.

For a split second Cinder and the werewolf seem of one mind; both of them take a great leap, one towards the stirring whirl of magic, the other towards the dark splotch it's able to make out. Cinder spins in the air, pulling back as she far as she can against the pain in her mauled forearm, so far the teeth of the arrowhead touch her knuckle just before she lets go. She knows the arrow hits, feels it in her guts, but she won't get to see where, if the hit was lethal as she slips into the hold of the portal before it surges and closes around her.

The werewolf flies through the faint mist left behind, crashing to the rooftop with a wrenching, guttural groan. The scent is gone and the fury is dissipating with it, quickly being overrun by the awful pain building in its chest. It's heavy, it _burns_ , and it's sapping what strength it has as it tries to pull up to its feet again. Unsteady paws swat at the arrow, only serving to stir more jolts of pain. A veil of dizziness washes over it and it collapses, unknowing of how close to the roof's edge it is. The last sensation it feels is free fall, then nothing.

 

On the far side of the portal, back in the protective confines of her fortress, Cinder lays on the floor and laughs between panting breaths of relief. Yes, her arm is in a world of pain as it lays across her chest, and her head is throbbing from the brief mauling that was strong enough to chip and crack her mask, but still she laughs. Because she got away with it. By the gods, she _got away with it_. She has the keys to the cosmos and not the Wild Hunt, not even Raven Branwen herself could take that from her now. And no werewolf either, in spite of the Oracle's warning.

She lays there and she laughs.

 

 

Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait everyone, the last few weeks have been...really something. Between looking for the desire to write, my job being incredibly stressful, and dad passing away, it's been a real struggle. Thanks to everyone for being so patient and understanding, and I promise I haven't given up yet. I'll need time to contemplate some plot logistics in the upcoming chapters, so it might still be a while before the next part to come out. Hopefully it will be worth it in the end.

 


	9. Chapter 8

Once the night dissolved into day, Blake and Weiss started to follow their faint but steadily strengthening connection to Yang. Quickly, quietly, unobstructed by the dense growth of the ancient forest. The Shadowmancer kept to the trees mostly, able to all but blink from branch to branch not just to travel in her own sort of comfort, but also giving herself a higher vantage to see a ways ahead. From time to time her attention strays to Weiss just below, and each time she's impressed by how well she travels -for a woman who chose to wear heels, that is. Weiss is surprisingly fast, keeping pace with Blake and just as quiet to move between the trees with feather-light steps.

They only stop when necessary, to rest and get their bearings as best they can. Blake scales the nearest, tallest tree to have a look about and to catch her breath, mindful of the tiny homes of Fae folk. From the canopy she can see a great swath of the valley; she thinks her memory of the archive map is accurate enough to figure out where they are, but she's lacking a distinctive landmark and has been for the last few hours. Then a breeze comes in from the west, bringing with it a scent that stands out from the old growth and moisture and spores from below. Trying to place it, Blake takes one last lingering scan across the horizon, double checking before making her way back beneath the canopy of branches and interweaving vines.

The Faunus perches on the lowest branch in an amusingly feline way, setting eyes on Weiss just in time to see her flinch with subdued surprise at her reappearance.

"You okay?"

"Y-yes, just...you're so _quiet_." She had known Blake for some time now, and even in more intimate settings such as the manor, she has never thought of the Faunus as invisible.

Blake's grin has a smug lilt to it. "Quiet keeps me alive."

"Indeed."

Her head cocks to the side, matching the slant of one fuzzy ear. "You sure you're all right?" Because the Witch has yet to look at her directly, seeming uneasy and overly vigilant of her surroundings. "Sense something?"

"...Maybe?" Weiss answers with a touch of exasperation. "I...it feels like someone's trying to stare holes into me. I can't recall feeling anything like it before."

One sable brow lifts as Blake's head and ear straightens. "Strange."

Weiss just nods, unsure of what else she can say. Then she clears her throat. "Find anything yet?"

"Maybe." Blake hops down to the ground, the most noise she's made yet. "I smelled smoke, so someone's got a fireplace going, but it came in from the west and that's not where we're headed."

Another curt nod. "What else?"

"The trees break up on the horizon ahead, I think, and that means we're likely nearest the southwest border. I saw abyssal caves on the map in only two places, and seeing as we're not on the slopes of an active volcano, we could only be in one other region."

"Ah, good, that actually sounds familiar." but only so much. If they were nearer the capital city, she'd feel much more confident about the situation.  _Gods above, what the hell is this awful feeling?_ Weiss shakes her head hard and heavily pats her own cheeks, like she's trying to shrug off a sudden bout of fatigue. When she comes out of it she starts again when she finds how close Blake has come to her in those brief seconds she had taken her eyes off of her. "W-we should go."

"Maybe take another minute? Get yourself together a little better?"

"I'm fine." Weiss exhales, mentally forcing herself to believe it. "Come on."

They're off again a moment later, returning to the same dogged pace they began with.

Weiss finds comfort in the dull warmth coming from her earrings, how it grows stronger by degrees with every passing league through the forest; Yang is still alive and they're getting closer. But the solace is tainted with the lingering pressure, that creeping dread of something heading right for you that you can neither see nor stop. And it grows as well, only much faster.

_Too_ fast.

How Weiss knew when to move is a mystery, but her instincts snap and her body shifts without her permission and with all the ease of intention. Something comes crashing through the middle of a gigantic tree that had been directly in her path, slivers and shards of the ageless timber blasting outward with near lethal force, enough to lance through other trees nearby. Weiss had twisted away at the last possible second, but had still been close enough to feel the rush of air and wood chips and an oppressive, sweltering wave of heat.

She spins around to face it, drawing Myrtenaster with the tip of the blade angled at the near pitch black cloud of smoke that has billowed into being from within the remains of the tree's trunk. Her pulse is already high, pounding in her throat in time with her racing heart, which only seems to surge harder still when she sees a sinister amber glow within the smoke. Then the darkness is swept away by a powerful swing of arms made from powerful musculature and roiling, molten rock. The body is similarly fixed together, lean, strong flesh stitched with magma and brimstone that heaves more smoke into the air with swarms of embers. The skin is alight with seemingly countless sigils and seals, all of them pulsating with powerful, ancient magic. The face seems human, though the eyes are invisible behind a slowly spinning halo of glyphs, but atop the head of crimson hair are incredible horns that curl back, under, and then forward into rough, vicious points. The creature's face is set in a savage, unyielding snarl, releasing breath hot enough to ripple the air around its mouth full of sharp teeth.

It makes a sound, like the dull roar of the backdraft from an inferno that actually makes a word. " _ **Schnee**_!"

_Oh gods_. The Witch shudders, knowing exactly what this creature is. _Gods have mercy on me._

Though her fear lasts as long as the little prayer, and she immediately snaps herself to the ready. Myrtenaster's silvery edge slants towards the monster in the instant before all the muscles in her body move in unison to propel her forward. The air shudders as she appears to blink across the space between, the movement punctuated by the ringing of steel. The Witch refuses to let the dismay she feels show as she acknowledges the brightly shining glyph pushing back against her, a breath between Myrtenaster and the beast, and she simply continues the push though this _thing_ doesn't even flinch.

The creature will push back, push _hard_ , lunging effortlessly against her and forcing her back further than where she began, her heels driving deep furrows in the earth and one snapping clean off as it clears a raised twist of roots. Weiss spins a glyph around the wrist of her off hand, deflecting an upward swing of smoldering claws, sparks flying hotly against her face. Another, then another, smoke starting to dance between them as it takes everything she has just to hold her ground. The golden glyphs circling the creature suddenly flare in congress with a particularly heavy swing, and when talons connect with the glyph it shatters with a radiating pain that rattles up her arm. Weiss swallows the hurt and quickly turns it into a rush of magic that she channels through the blade, the steel glistening white as she thrusts it forward. The beast howls at the frigid hiss of ice punching through its shoulder.

Weiss won't linger long, swiftly jumping aside as a swath of flames come spilling from behind the monster's fangs, but she's quick to advance again now that she is in line to strike from behind. She'll land two more precise blows, pushing just between the protective sigils before he retaliates, twisting in a most inhuman way to swipe upward and connect with the Witch's chin. Her backpedaling is entirely reactionary as the scalding pain shoots from her chin to her jaw and into her face, one hand clapping over her eye that feels to steadily burn hotter. Witch blood simmers on the creature's talons as it turns towards her and snarls.

In the instant that the beast lunges again, Blake descends from the trees above with silk and steel shimmering. There's a great _CRACK_ of impact, a shower of violet sparks erupting from between the monster's shoulders before it tumbles forward and hits the dirt. The Shadowmancer seems to stretch as she reaches for Weiss across the space between them, easily snatching her wrist and pulling her along.

"The hell was that thing?" Blake asks quickly.

"Balore, long story," Weiss pants, the throbbing in her face becoming sharper with her steadily climbing heart rate.

"Then tell me later." Blake isn't so sure what a Balore is, exactly, but she acknowledges the weight of its shadow and knows damn good and well that they needed to get as far away from it as possible - _fast_. "You okay?"

"Painful, but I'll live. Where are we going? You can't outrun this thing!"

"Not trying to." Blake pauses for a split second, seeming to get her bearings before starting off again, now in a new direction. "Just have to get a little ahead."

"Then hold on to me."

A kitten's squeak ekes out of Blake as her hold on Weiss' wrist is quickly twisted around, the Witch pulling her closer than she expects and looping a firm arm around her waist in the split second before gravity starts to pull against them both. The wind howls in all four of her ears, deafening, bordering on too much before it suddenly stops. All the force she had felt against her whole body suddenly collapses into a space the size of a thumb, focusing on her gut, and Blake crashes into it. The world spins, weightless and backwards, and the Faunus wretches loudly at the feeling of her guts trying to burst through her skin.

Weiss fairs little better, having collided with something as well at that breakneck speed. She goes spinning through the air, head over heels until she smacks chest-first into the low bough of a tree that is somehow strong enough to catch her momentum. As the wind flies out of her lungs she wishes the damn branch had broken. She slips away from rough edged bark to hit the dirt face down, struggling to breathe properly again.

The Balore had found them, following the cold sting of the White Witch's magic to guide its own and trace her. The liquified rock in its flesh flares and surges with heat as he glares through the sigils hiding his eyes. With three long strides he's on her again, and he swings one leg hard against her side to flip her over and leave a streak of charred cloth half way around her waist. She hits the trunk of the tree, the leaves above shuddering with impact, and Weiss sputters, blood now gushing from her nose. Her vision swims, but it comes together in time for her to comprehend her present peril and reflexively throw up a ward before the Balore's burning talons can reach her. There's sparks, the shrill screech of stone and metal, and the Balore just _pushes_ against the magical shield. Weiss has both hands on Myrtenaster, and she uses the relic's inherent power to bolster her own, but even then she fears it isn't enough.

The Balore roars, sparks and embers flickering behind its fangs. The sigils on its body shimmer brighter and the pressure against the ward mounts. The Witch's defense begins to crack, spiderwebs of light fracturing across the spinning symbols.

The Balore suddenly jerks and shrieks in pain, backpedaling unsteadily with its brimstone hands clawing against its chest. It's all Weiss needs to get away from it, which she does in the blink of an eye and a cautious flicker of movement. When she's distant and stable on her feet again she's ready to go right back in, but pauses, feeling an oppressive energy wash over her. It isn't the Balore, it isn't anything she recognizes at all, actually, but she understands once her half-dazed mind comprehends what she sees.

Blake is a few feet behind the Balore, unarmed and open handed. Ribbons of crimson ripple and wind outwards from the awful wound in her belly, up around her arms and fingers, writhing with their own sort of life, soft until they reach the Balore, which has been lanced through with seemingly countless red barbs. All through its body they pierce its skin, course beneath it _and_ all of the protective sigils inch by inch.

_Blood._ Blake was using her own blood to restrain it; Weiss is certain of it once she sees the Shadowmancer's amber irises lost in crimson, and tears of the same color are rolling down her face. Her clawed fingers hook, fluid solidifying in the same instant just before her hands clap together, those fingers interlacing as rigid red spines rip through the Balore's body. Its roar of rage and agony is trapped behind jaws that have been lanced shut.

Blake relaxes with a burst of air, her palms pressing to her eyes as she teeters on her feet. The pain in her side has her bending at the waist, but Weiss is there to stabilize her before she can fall.

"Gotta go," Blake pants, swallowing heavily, "that won't last long."

Weiss bites her lip, her eyes moving from Blake to the Balore and then back again.

"Keep north, I have an idea."

"You're not going to make it very far, Blake."

"We don't have to, just go."

Weiss stabilizes herself with a breath, giving the seething monster one last look before the two women all but disappear in a gray blur of movement.

The Witch can sense the distance steadily growing between them and the Balore, finding some relief in it as the forest passes in a wash of blended color. But, by the same token, she can sense Blake's strength dwindling; she's lost so much blood, and if they don't find safety soon...

Weiss holds her a little tighter. _I can't lose you both. I can't._

She shakes out the worry, knows she needs to focus, and gathers herself back together in a snap. Eyes now fixed ahead, a relieved sort of softness flickers across her once fixed, determined scowl.

"We're almost out of the woods. The trees part ahead."

"That's not the edge of the forest." It's a bit slurred, but still understood. "Keep going."

"What do you mean?"

"Trust me."

It's only in the seconds before the break in the timbers yawns open and they pass through it that she remembers the abyssal caverns.

She can't stop herself, it's much too late, and her gut drops the second her brain notes the absence of terra firma beneath her heels. He breath snatches up in her chest, she can't breathe, and her mind is wiped clean of anything and everything except the tragic security on the far side of the incredible vacancy in the ground between her and it.

Blake moves, slowly but surely as she pulls her limbs against the awful weight of half-consciousness. She's doing her best to recover as she shifts against Weiss, pulls the Witch to her and tries to speak loud enough over the rush of air around them. Through heavy lids she keeps track of the light, knowing they might only have an actual second between it disappearing and them crashing into whatever lies in wait at the bottom of the chasm. Her felid ears fold flat atop her head, blocking out whatever Weiss is trying to say -or whatever her blood-deprived brain is making her believe she's saying.

"Shut your eyes. Don't make a sound." and she just hopes Weiss is listening. Prays, as she senses the shadows growing closer. An unconscious worry compels her to put her hand over Weiss' eyes, bloodied fingers gripping gently to silently assure her that this is better. "Don't make a sound." Blake repeats, her Shadowmancy blossoming around them and plucking them out of the light only to plunge them into darkness.

 

_(II)_

The fire in Emerald's alcove roars hotter than usual, the heat soothing to Cinder as she sits particularly close to it and nurses her wine as a distraction from the pain. It's not as bad now, the throbbing ache in her arm, but it's enough for her to see it tended like a mortal would. Emerald carefully finishes the bindings around the splint, not meaning for it to be wholly secure, as Cinder would only need it for a few hours. It's mostly just to keep her mindful of the injury so she doesn't overuse it. When Emerald's finished Cinder looks the limb over, flexing the fingers loosely before letting her arm drape across her stomach.

Cinder takes a lazy, deep breath. "How's Neo?"

Emerald mimics the action as she gathers the few tools she needed to set Cinder's arm in preparation of putting them away. "She wouldn't let me touch her, she was too upset."

"I can imagine." Cinder grins slowly, taking another sip of wine and looking into the flames beside her. "It's not often that she gets handled like that...without her consent, anyway."

"I'm worried, though. She might take it out on someone."

"Not if she wants her head and shoulders to remain acquainted."

Emerald files away each item, meticulous. "I'm mostly worried about the Dragon in our attic, so to speak."

"Don't be." Cinder exhales with a little laugh. "Neo is very...she needs instant gratification when she's in this kind of mood, something she isn't going to get out of  _her._ "

Emerald pauses, eyes narrowed on Cinder. "What do you mean?"

Cinder buzzes her lips, suddenly amused. "Not what you're thinking," she chuckles. "Just a basic sleep curse, that's all."

"Oh."

Cinder just nods, comfortable in the notion that she understood. "And my Gatekeeper is used to her abuse by now, so no real harm done."

Emerald knows it's just in Cinder's nature to be so callous, but sometimes it's still shocking. She shakes her head, clearing her thoughts. "If you don't need me for anything else, I'm going to go check on the Scribe, see if he's come to."

Cinder nods and hums. "Give me the bottle before you go."

Emerald smirks as she fills the request, though the expression is short lived. "What should I tell him?"

The cork on the bottle pops. "About what?"

"I went through his things," she pauses, scowling lightly. "...I think that lycan was his wife." There had been pictures in his billfold, several, all of them something happy and achingly human.

"Tragic, really." though the words are hardly believable, considering Cinder's tone and the more obvious focus she's giving the contents of her full-again glass. "Tell him the truth, I guess. Spin a lie if you want, it's of little consequence to me."

"Well, with all due respect, if he believes we killed his wife, he might not be very willing to cooperate."

"As if he has a choice in the matter? What do you suppose he'll do about it?" she smiles in a way that doesn't fit her fangs. "If he chooses to be...obstinate, we'll handle it, just like we handle  _everything_ . We've made it this far, haven't we?"

Emerald laughs to herself, the sound breathy and limp, and she feigns a smile when Cinder smirks at her. She'll eventually nod and go about her business, taking her time ascending the stairs out of the alcove and giving Cinder one last, uncertain glance.

Cinder doesn't see that last look, too absorbed in her wine and the crackling of the flames that are so much like her thoughts now. Her skull is full of flickers, ideas upon ideas compounding as she considers the days ahead. They are so  _close_ now.  _So. **Close**_ . Since she came into being and was able to comprehend the nature of her existence, Cinder had sought the means to be free, to restore her  _true self_ , and  _**now** _ ...

The fingers on her injured hand flex again, this time with purpose. They sift through the folds of her loose shirt and find the braid of Dragon mane resting against her chest. She worries it with the pad of her thumb, soothed by the softness, and reassured by the little warmth still residing in it.

Perhaps her luck will hold just a little longer.

 

_(III)_

A horrid stench pulls her consciousness to the surface in one rough, unkind instant. It's the unforgettable reek of spoiled food and rancid garbage of countless sorts becoming steadily heated by the sun. And, unfortunately, Pyrrha's nose is the only thing that seems to be functioning as expected when she finally comes to.

She reflexively gags, but grunts more so at the lancing pain in her chest, the crackling hurt enough to make her open her eyes and wake more fully. Her eyes still burn and she can barely see, but the blurs have colors now. She feels the abrasion of plastic bags and bottles, of worn paper and the threat of broken glass against her bare side and feet. She sputters something that's almost a word, biting the noise in half at another charge of pain. It's the same pain that stops her from rolling onto her back, as even the slightest motion forward or back disturbs whatever is going through her. Just like simply breathing does.

Pyrrha's mind is frantically trying to gather the pieces of last night, mostly succeeding with the exception that nothing is in proper order; just pictures and feelings cluttered together in a heap not unlike the one she's laying on top of. Her focus is trying to linger on the shock of a bone white face with fangs and horns, an image that tries to stir her fury that is quickly squelched by the pain that clutched within her ribcage. A restrained sob finally escapes.

_Focus, focus, focus -god it hurts, what happened, Jaune, **Jaune** \- focus_

Pyrrha takes as deep a breath as she's able, holding it in and then letting it go slowly, forcing her heart to steady at least a little. She knows she can't just lie here, this dumpster was sure to be picked up eventually. But  _gods above_ she can't imagine how she was going to be able to get out of this without injuring herself even more. She needed help. But how in the hell...

_Scroll, scroll, scroll_

But she didn't even have a shirt, why would she...wait.

Thankfully it didn't hurt to move her hand, and it unsteadily rises from where it rests, punched through a trash bag, to reach for her hip. Mentally she's praying, her lip between her teeth until her fingers make out the shape of the scroll that she had buttoned into her pocket. She holds in the little chuckle of relief as her blood smeared fingers work the closure open. The threads holding the token give out before Pyrrha's patience, and she whimpers gratitude to anything that's listening as the device slips free.

She almost has it pressed against her face, trying to see it well enough to make out the screen, but she can't. Pyrrha bites back a curse as the burning in her eyes surges, tears setting in, and struggles to compose herself after a series of quick but shallow breaths. She feels across the screen with her thumb, searching for the seams of one of the buttons. When she finds it she'll hold it down, listening for the telling chime of the voice control activating. It sounds like the first half of a stereotypical doorbell.

"C-call Billy." she forces out, worried her voice wouldn't function at first. She doesn't hear the expected dial tone, so she tries again. More insistent. "Call. Billy."

There it is, that morse code of sounds followed by that blessed buzz of a dull ringing.  _Please pick up, please-please-please, I know it's been too long since we talked but-_

There's a click and then a low hum of static. " _...Tanka speaking....hello?_ "

For a moment the words are stuck behind a lump in her throat, eventually wrenching free. "Th-thank god. I need your help."

" _Who is...Pyrrha? Is that you? Are you okay?"_

"No." her throat is tightening again. There's relief in sight so all the courage she had bolstered to keep her wits is starting to waver. "I don't know where I am."

" _You hurt?_ "

Pyrrha nods to herself, thinking they know. "Bad."

" _Hold on..._ " something crackles over the line. " _Don't hang up, I can trace your scroll, but I'm on my way._ "

"Thank you," she tries and fails to restrain a small sob. "Thank you."

There's a long pause, and that low hum seems to rise in frequency, like the revving of an engine. " _Can you tell me anything? What do you see?_ "

Pyrrha sputters, almost laughing. "I'm in a dumpster."

" _...Did you turn last night?_ " another long pause. " _Pyrrha, I need an answer._ "

"Y-yes. I think so." Pyrrha feels herself wince at the audible sigh from the other end of the line.

" _Can you tell me anything else? Any distinguishing landmarks around you?_ "

"I don't know, I can't really see. I got hit in the face with something,"

" _...Can you tell me what it smelled like?_ "

"No, I...I don't know. All I can smell is trash."

" _Do you remember_ anything _from last night?_ "

"We...Jaune and I...we were at Shangri-La."

" _I'm going to head in that direction until I get a signal, just stay put._ "

"P-please hurry," she swallows again. "I'm...in a lot of pain."

 

"Just stay on the line." While keeping their eyes on the road -Vale's metro traffic is  _**HELL** _ -, Billy hits a switch beneath the steering column. The SUV's headlights and taillights flash, there's a siren eerily similar to a common ambulance. "Keep talking to me, try to stay awake. Tell me anything you can remember."

" _...A mask._ " comes a tight, difficult response. " _I think it was a mask._ "

"Colors?" They bite their lip at having to swerve, ignoring the blaring horn of the other car as they twist the wheel hard. "What was it shaped like?"

" _Fangs...horns...maybe...I think it was white._ "

Billy scowls, holding their breath as they pull through a red light. "Just white? Any red?"

" _Maybe._ "

_Shit, shit shit._ They look at the dashboard, where their scroll sits in a caddy. "I've got your general location, I'm just a few minutes away."

" _Good_ ."

For a moment the line is quiet, Billy's too focused on traffic to hold conversation, but there's a spike of worry when they realize how much time passes without a sound from the far end of the connection. "Pyrrha?  _Pyrrha_ . Still there?"

" _They took him_ ." Her voice cracks. " _They took Jaune_ ."

"Who? The one in the mask?"

" _I think so,_ " she whimpers, " _but there was more than one. There had to be_ ."

"Hold onto that, keep that as fresh in your mind as you can, tell me all about it when I get there because I'm right around the corner.  _Hold on_ ."

The tires squeal and Billy almost gives themself a little whiplash at a perilously sharp turn, eyes wide at the way the car rocks on the shocks. They spot the club Pyrrha mentioned and immediately start looking one way and the other for any and all dumpsters. They needed to find a safe place to park, too, knowing this would go a lot faster on foot. As they pass Shangri-La, Billy can feel a tattoo on their back heating up, nothing urgent feeling, but definitely enough to garner their full attention. Someone's been doing serious magic nearby, and recently. It's a place to start, they think.

As the vehicle rolls to a stop on the far side of the street from the club, the lights and the siren cut off, but for safety's sake Billy keeps the hazards flashing. They aren't concerned about being seen, especially when they quickly round to the back of the car to lift the door and fish out a painfully visible, bright red bag with the white logo for the Specialties Clinic on it; anyone who's looking will see it and keep their distance, not wanting to interfere with a possible medical emergency.

They jog at a healthy clip down the sidewalk, gauging the heat building in their shoulder blade. The trail leads them down an alley, and sure enough they quickly hone in on the lone, hulking steel frame of a dumpster. They can also see that one side of it is crushed, bent downward as if by impact from above. Billy's tall enough to look in, feeling their gut drop. Gods have mercy.

"I'm here, I've got you." They assure Pyrrha as they lift themselves up onto the unbent edge of the container. At a glance none of it looks good.  _Gods girl, how are you still alive?_ There's an arrow.  _Through. Her. Chest._

When she knows they're close enough, having felt the trash shift around her, Pyrrha reaches out, half desperate and half coherent, to latch on to a familiarly thick forearm.

"I know, but I need my hands right now." Billy gently pries her fingers loose, holding her hand for just a moment, just to comfort her. "Let me see."

Billy carefully moves her head, wanting a closer look at the redness they find around her eyes -they're terribly swollen. There's some sort of chalky residue that they're able to wipe off with a finger, and when they can't suss out an odor they chance to put it to their tongue. They spit it out a second later, going for the zipper on their bag.

"I'm gonna rinse your eyes, should be able to see just fine in a minute. Might burn a little."

Pyrrha just whimpers and accepts it, gripping Billy by the arm again when they cradle her head in one hand. It does burn, gods above it burns  _so bad_ , bad enough to make her lips flare and show fangs around a tight, chesty growl. But she keeps her eyes open, only blinking after Billy says she can.

"That's it, keep it up, look here; how many fingers do you see?"

Pyrrha blinks a few more times, each flicker of dark and light bringing out a clearer image. She can still feel the swelling and terrible tenderness, but now the world is finally more than blurs. "Three." she manages as she clears her throat.

"Good."

"What was that?" Pyrrha groans.

"Ash wood dust." Billy drops the little bottle back in the bag and starts fishing around for something else. "Lycans are allergic."

"How could...how did they know?"

"No telling right now, so I'm just going to worry about getting you out of here."

"Thank you for coming. I know it's been a while,"

"Don't worry about that." Billy shakes their head. Now they have what looks like pliers and and roll of gauze and tape in their hands. "I said you could always call me if you need to, and here I am. Now this is going to be rough, so just be patient with me."

She can feel fresh tears coming, fear making her ribs clench painfully. "Can I hold on to you?"

"So long as it isn't my hands."

Pyrrha finds a fold of their heavy flannel shirt, just above the belt line, and holds it as tight as she's able. The worst of it comes when Billy has to clip the end of the arrow, the jolts of pain as the pliers close are enough to get tears rolling down her streaked cheeks again. All the while the Shaman is assuring her as best they can, promising the hardest part is over. But Pyrrha refuses to believe that when they try and lift her up, almost swallowing her tongue at the incredible, tearing pain coming from the side she had been laying on.

"Easy, easy," they have to follow through, they can't just drop her back on the trash, and instead hold her to their chest and let her sob into their shirt for a moment. "I'm sorry. Gods, I'm sorry. Only a little more, I swear."

Billy finds the long, cruel laceration under her arm, visibly scowling at it and the mess of dried blood around it. They try to move quicker, frustrated mostly at themself when they reach back into the bag for the biggest gauze pad they can find. It'll keep until they can get her to the clinic. With that mostly cared for, Billy continues with the original plan of stabilizing the remains of the arrow's shaft with gauze and tape -the pieces they clipped away were stuffed in the bag.

"I have to carry you," they grunt, big arms trying to work under her with as much care as possible. "Ready?"

Pyrrha just nods, biting her lip and bracing herself. It's not as bad as she expects, and being in Billy's arms brings a certain security, she feels less exposed even as she winces at the sound of traffic surging when they leave the alley.

The SUV has a lot of space in the back, and over the years Billy had outfitted it to serve numerous purposes. On several occasions they had to transport...cargo that they couldn't just strap down in the back seat, so they rigged the framework in the back with a few hooks that could hold almost anything, letting Billy set up a hammock of sorts that would allow for whatever they were traveling with not to be disturbed too much during the drive. It takes some work to get it set up and to get Pyrrha in a position that is comfortable but not stressing her chest wound, but the two manage it together.

As the back door closes, the driver's side door doing the same a few seconds later, Pyrrha finds the most comfort she's had. Finally; this is familiar, this is safe, and now her greatest fear is her mate's absence. It's all she can think about as all the tension in her body breaks and she allows her fractured awareness to collapse and go dark.

Billy tries to keep her talking, asking for anything else Pyrrha could remember, but when there's no response, they just push down on the gas pedal.

 

 

Author's Note: I don't think this is trash, just really rough. I'm still trying to find my way out of what I think is a depressive episode, and it's not easy. I've been trying to find time and energy to do things I love, but with my work schedule and nature of my job itself, that has been mostly impossible. But I'm making little strides, sometimes big ones, and I feel like I've made a big one here. I'm getting there. Going to likely have a lot of exposition in the next chapter, possibly including exactly what Cinder is -because someone guessed right and they deserve the validation. Love you guys, see you then!

 


	10. Chapter 9

Plansewalking and what is sometimes called Shadestepping are not, at all, the same thing. While both crafts take a certain degree of natural predisposition and years of training to even access, and both allow one to travel much more quickly from one location to another, that's where the similarities end. Plansewalking is significantly safer by comparison, and may be attempted alone, because the space between planes is relatively free of entities that might devour an unwary traveler.

The plane of Shadow -the largest of all planes of existence- is teeming with _things_ , and all but a few are completely invisible to anyone who isn't an experienced Shadowmancer or a Faunus. It also helps to know the tricks, as it were, because traveling through shadow isn't about fending off these creatures, it's about keeping them from knowing you're there to begin with. That's why Blake does her best to keep Weiss' eyes covered as they drift through the endless black, and when she's aware of how loudly the Witch is breathing, panting like a frightened animal, her other hand carefully covers her mouth as well. Because that's how they find you; they _listen_ , and they _know_ when unfamiliar eyes are on them.

Weiss' heart hammers against her ribs; she's never been here before and can sense herself as an alien presence, but she can also feel the awesome volume of creatures around her and it threatens to send her into a panic. She still clutches Myrtenaster in one hand, but the other is just as securely curled around Blake's wrist as it's the only thing she can think to do. As it stands, she's the only thing keeping Weiss grounded at the moment. There's something secure in such intimate touch, something that assures her that she's safe and that everything will be all right.

Coming through the other side is unexpected and jolting, both of them hitting the ground with some momentum behind them that sends them crashing to the dirt. They separate, Weiss gasping for air more from riding out the fear than from a lack of oxygen. Blake groans and rolls slowly onto her side, body and hands tightening around the wound in her belly again.

Weiss gets to her hands and knees, feeling somewhat calm and collected at last. Looking to one side she spots a great tree with an impressive, natural opening in the trunk, not a trace of light within it, realizing this is where they fell out of. Looking the other way she sees Blake, feels her pulse spike again at how she doesn't appear to move. Refusing to crawl she gets her feet beneath her, rising just enough to close the space between them in only a step or two.

"Blake," she chances to touch her, relieved at the little twitch of one felid ear. "Blake, are you all right?"

A breathy whimper is the only response. Weiss tries a gentle tug on Blake's shoulder, encouraging her to let her have a look, but all she can focus on is how terribly gray Blake looks. She's lost so much blood.

"Blake, this is bad." Panic is creeping up her back again, feeling to double over when Blake makes no vocal reply. An amber iris peeks between dusky lashes, but that's it. "I can heal you."

Blake makes a chesty, grinding noise. "Not a Healer."

"I know, but if I don't you'll _die_." Weiss swallows hard.

"...Y-yeah. K-kay." Blake forces herself to move, to settle flat on her back, and pries her own hands away from the wound. She crosses her arms, holding tight to her own sleeves to brace herself.

While anyone gifted in magic can use it to mend injuries, only born Healers can do so without significant cost. Not only is it a considerable drain on the practitioner, but it can be painful for the victim; in this case, magic is only speeding up the body's natural process, regrowing tissue at a rate that makes it  _tangible_ .

"Do it." Blake grunts. Her knuckles are red and white against her sleeves.

Weiss nods, trying to assure herself as much as Blake, and then brings her free hand to hover over the bloody hole in the Faunus' body. It takes a moment, but a sigil appears between her palm and Blake's skin, the immaculate whiteness of the Schnee emblem. Its light waxes and wanes, pulsing like a heartbeat as the spell begins its work. At first there's no reaction from Blake, if there had been, Weiss would certainly know considering how closely she watches her. Then the Witch feels her magic really take hold, and in the same instant Blake's ears snap flat against her hair and her already tightened face morphs into a toothy snarl.

Weiss is starting to feel it too, watching the tighter curl of Blake's fingers into her sleeves coinciding with a painful tug in her own veins. The magic _drags_ through her, frost bite and razors, but it isn't enough to rupture her focus. The pain peaks as the spell resolves, as Blake's body bucks upward with one last, drawn out and grinding growl before flopping back down. The Witch's vision swims and her heart pounds, threatening to drag her consciousness under.

"No, no," Weiss shakes her head, her face covered by her hands, the pressure of her fingers reminding her of the cut over her eye. "Can't stay here. Please." She's trying to get Blake up, even if it's just to a sitting position, it's better than the ground. Her heart is lurching because Blake isn't moving, a glance at her gray face reveals the way her eyes have rolled back. She has the Faunus against her chest and is trying with every ounce of strength she has left to stand up, but it feels like pulling against the weight of the cosmos and that awful burning dread is rising again. Her jaw clenches at one incredible, herculean push to her feet. " _Please_!"

Weiss can hear the punctuated shatter of timbers, one after the other as that terrible creature comes barreling through the forest, surely on a direct path to her.

_Gods, oh gods I'm sorry. I'm sorry Yang, Blake, I'm sorry I failed. I'm so so so sorry..._

Her strength fails and Weiss collapses to her knees, clutching Blake to her as tightly as she can, still chanting frantic, helpless apologies as she waits for the end that's coming.

The energies around them pitch, swirl madly as they collide, and then there's nothing but noise. A pressure mounts around them, feeling strangely...protective? Weiss' eyes are screwed shut as she huddles around Blake, part of her simply too afraid to watch what she is certain is her last seconds alive. Those seconds pass and...nothing happens. Somehow her sheer curiosity overcomes her fear and she lifts her head, opening her eyes to see the golden glow now surrounding her and Blake. For the time being she can't comprehend the sigil beneath her, a glowing, golden crown struck across the ground, she's much too fixed on the ruckus beyond the glimmering boundary. Snarling and sparks, the Balore lashing out at a figure that seems to move much too quick to see. They hold the Balore back, parrying its every attack, their off hand reaching out and touching the wards across the monster's body in a way that makes them outright disappear.

Weiss can only watch, too awestruck to be relieved.

The other figure pauses for the breadth of a second, a moment for Weiss to see them and recognize them; a Sylvan Fae with golden hair and horns reminiscent of a deer. The woman's eyes glow a powerful green as she lunges forward again, her off hand forward and fingers splayed wide. It's too fast for the Balore to catch and her palm connects with its chest. The rest of the wards dispel in a flash and scatter of stars, all except one. In her lead hand looks to be a mundane riding crop, but it is clearly anything but when she whips it forward to strike the center of the remaining ward, the tip of it piercing the central symbol of an eyeless skull.

The Balore shrieks defiantly in the second before the crop is ripped away, the ward blasting apart with enough force to push the two of them away from each other. The Fae controls herself well enough to land on her feet, seemingly relaxed but still more than ready should the Balore choose to press this matter further. Not that it had much time left to do so in any case, now with that last ward gone.

Rest assured the Balore tries, at least it intends to in its remaining moments. Its eyes are now visible and can clearly telegraph the rage that makes its molten limbs flare brighter than ever. But it fails to outshine the silvery frame of the spirit that comes speeding out of the trees, no brighter than the flash of light the splits the monster from hip to shoulder though it leaves no visible wound. The fire in the Balore's body dies, fizzles and hisses into cold stone as its skin goes corpse white and it drops to the dirt.

Weiss doesn't realize her jaw is hanging open as her eyes are wide and affixed to the spirit, the Reaper. It hangs in the air, hovering just inches above the ground in the shape of an empty silver cloak -as most Reapers do, or so she had come to understand. She knows it isn't here for her, and she prays it isn't here for Blake, prayers that mount in volume in her head when it doesn't immediately dissipate. Wasn't its work finished? _Please_ let it be finished...

"Schnee,"

Weiss blinks and immediately responds to the sound of her surname. And only now does she realize the golden glow has faded. "Madam Goodwitch."

The Fae adjusts her glasses and approaches slowly, arms crossing when she stops but a few feet away. "Safe to say I expected your mother."

"I...I get that a lot." she pants a little, still confused and still very tired.

"How on earth did you get here?"

"It's...quite the story, actually, which I hope I could have a moment before I tell it. It's been a rather busy day so far."

"I can see." She eyes the Reaper, golden brows skewed curiously. "I hope you won't take this incident as a breach in the treaty, as I had no idea that Balore still existed. And if _I didn't know_ , surely no one else of merit was aware."

"Not at all," she shakes her head, "but it's a matter for later. Please help us."

Madam Goodwitch promptly agrees, helping the young Witch to her feet before casting the smallest of spells to levitate the unconscious Faunus off the ground. She says her home is not far and wastes no time in showing the way.

The Reaper lingers only a moment more, perhaps contemplating the remains of the Balore, but then follows those still living through the trees.

 

_(II)_

Last night had been a struggle. What with having done her best to keep a Schnee out of the Midden, then getting knocked around by Cinder only to turn around and open a portal for her to leave and return to, it's a wonder that Tag hadn't simply fainted. She had managed to crawl to her bed, her face still streaked with her own blood and bruised, and wholly careless to it. Her thoughts are thoroughly scrambled when she comes to some hours later, but she's somewhat accustomed to the condition and is able to recover with discomforting ease. As she checks herself over, wiping away now dried blood and checking to see if her nose is broken again, Tag focuses on more important matters.

Cinder finally had what she wanted; somehow she knew that infernal bitch had acquired the Scribe after all this time and that put the very cosmos in jeopardy. It would only be a matter of time now before she unlocked the Cornerstone and did gods-knew-what with it. And Tag knows she won't waste one precious moment, so the Faunus forces herself upright, bracing the wall at a wave of dizziness before making for what was left of her door.

She reflexively sneaks through the hallway, minding every sound she makes right down to policing the volume of her breath, wanting to draw as little attention to herself as possible. She follows the little buzz of energy she senses against the short hair on her neck, knowing it's Emerald and anxious about what she might be up to. She'll almost reach the end of the corridor before the last door opens and Emerald comes stepping through, alone, and Tag thoughtlessly drops into a crouch and goes stock still in hopes of remaining unseen. Emerald will continue on her way, seemingly none the wiser, but it still takes Tag a moment to relax enough to move again. She notices the still present prickle of magic, curious as to why the Illusionist hadn't taken it with her until she pokes around the doorway to look inside. The Scribe, it's coming from him; invisible threads of cosmic energy drift about even as he sits on the edge of a bed, hunched over with his face in his hands.

Her heart clenches as she straightens fully, carefully crossing the threshold and stopping, just standing there for a moment with sympathy pulling her features. She wants to say something, feels like she needs to -they're in this mess together, after all.

"...H-hey." Tag almost smiles when his head snaps up, what little traces of the expression falling absolutely flat when she makes out the man's face, the familiarity.

Jaune blinks at her, a tear falling down his bruised cheek in the same moment he acknowledges her own. "T-Tag, what...how did?"

"Oh shit." her heart drops, her tail offering a visible reaction with the last few inches of it flopping to the floor. "I'd ask if you're okay, but," she can plainly see the redness in his eyes, even if daylight weren't coming unhindered through the only window.

"...Pyrrha," his chest heaves and his voice cracks. "They killed her."

Tag deflates, her ribs clenching. "Oh gods...Jaune, I," But what the hell do you say to that? How could she say anything when she feels like crying now too? In the end she'll say nothing, instead easing over to kneel in front of him and pull him into as tight an embrace as he'll allow. He accepts it willingly, eagerly, all but shoving his face into her shoulder to openly sob against her. Tag has always been the empathetic sort, so his grief seeps into her, burning her bones like poison.

It feels like hours before he composes himself again, leaving both of them drained when he at last straightens and wipes his face on his arms.

"Jaune, I'm so sorry." Mostly because she feels responsible; Cinder wouldn't have been able to find them without her help. "This...it's my fault."

"What do you mean?" he croaks pitifully. "W-what the hell is going on?"

Tag exhales, momentarily wordless as her hand smooths over his atop his knee in an offering of comfort. She doesn't know where to start.

His lips tuck between his teeth and his ribs jump with a quick breath. He's trying to keep it together but it only gets harder. Then realization flickers across his face. "Gods, what about the kids,"

One sable brow lifts. "Kids?"

"Yeah, I...that's right, you don't know. My girls, not even a year old." there's the briefest smile, quickly covered up by his hand. "Thank goodness they're with my mom, but...what am I going to do?"

Tag's hand grips his a little tighter, her brow knitting in tandem. " _We_ are going to find our way out of here and off this plane. I couldn't do it by myself," she had tried before, and mentally flinched at the memory of that terrific failure, "but maybe the two of us will be enough."

Jaune's mind swims with...well, everything; all the things he knows, doesn't know, and everything he's worrying about and trying to put in whatever order it belongs in. And all of that is vying against his profound, surreal grief for his thready focus. He pulls his hand free of Tag's grasp to push it roughly through his hair, something physical that he can measure. He needs it so desperately, some kind of anchor to keep him grounded.

_Focus on what you can change, on what you can control. As little as it is._

He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, surprised at how well it levels him out. "So what is this all about? Let's start with that."

Tag nods once. "It's...quite the story. What did Emerald tell you?"

"I...I barely remember." That whole encounter was mostly a blur at this point. "I just...maybe you should walk me through it."

"Well, in short, we're in deep shit." she clears her throat again while smiling in spite of herself. Maybe she thought to break up the heaviness around them. "At length, the _entire planescape_ is in deep shit."

"How?"

"Your mother ever tell you anything about the Cornerstone? Or the Scribe? Creation of the universe?"

"N-no." he responds uncertainly, wondering how any of those things related to each other or what they had to do with his question. His confusion only mounts when Tag groans with a sort of toothy cringe. "It's quite the story, too, isn't it?"

"Not entirely, no. You don't need the whole story to understand just how deep we're in it. The Cornerstone and the Scribe share a birthday, the Powers made the Scribe to create the governing laws of the universe and engrave them on the Cornerstone. The Scribe is the only one who can alter it, and is subsequently reincarnated, one life after another should the Powers that Be need him."

"What do I have to do with this, then? Or you, for that matter?"

"I'm..." the shame in her voice is palpable, "Cinder needs my powers to keep this plane shut off, buy her time. And she needs you...to change the Stone."

"...What?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but I assure you I'm completely serious."

Jaune's brow furrows low over his eyes, making him appear no more understanding than before. "I...can't. I don't...there's nothing magical about me. I mean, you know who my mom is - _everyone does_ \- but I'm just...me."

"Apparently Cinder believes otherwise."

"And who the hell is Cinder?" his tone sharpens like his expression.

"That would be me."

Both of them turn towards the smooth but insistent interruption, now aware of the woman propped up in the doorway and how self-satisfied she looks with a grin and crossed arms. Jaune eyes her for a moment, feeling only a little uneasy about her, a sense that doubles over when he glances at Tag; she's perched on the balls of her feet, a quick movement he hadn't seen her make, and her eyes are set warily, toeing the line with fear. She looks ready to bolt.

"You wouldn't be trying to turn the Scribe against me, would you?"

"Don't need any help from me." she answers meekly, but with an audible edge.

"Indeed." A touch of the smugness leaves Cinder's face, her amber eyes thinning. "Get out."

Tag moves cautiously, not too quickly rising to stand mostly upright. There is a tightness in her shoulders that only seems to mount as she get closer to Cinder, the two almost brushing against each other in the doorway. Just the _idea_ of coming into physical contact with her makes Tag jerk away, the Faunus bumping the door on her way out. Cinder smirks with a little snicker.

"It's Jaune, correct?"

Jaune stands up, feeling the need to make himself look as rigid and tall as possible. He had never thought of himself as an angry or vindictive person, but he was starting to feel it. " _You_ killed my wife."

"I was defending myself." she answers plainly.

"You wouldn't have had to if you had left us alone." his jaw tightens around the words.

"I'm afraid that wasn't possible." Cinder straightens and takes two short, casual steps towards him. Her expression is mostly neutral now, save for the arching of one brow at his defiance. After a beat or two it falls. "I...can understand that you're upset, and you have every right to be, but won't you hear me out? You humans like talking things through, right?"

"Got to hell." He bites back, squaring up to her.

"Been there, frankly it wasn't warm enough." She had heard humans liked humor, but by the way his face only hardened, clearly he's not one of that sort. "So, there's no reasoning with you?"

"You. _Murdered_. My _wife_." He repeats firmly, his jaw steadily tightening until his molars creak. "What were you expecting?"

"In all honesty, I expected you to be terrified at this point. But, then again," that razor sharp smirk is back, "you still don't know who you're dealing with."

"I know enough."

"You do? Well then," her amber eyes shimmer with interest, "let me just make sure we're on the same page." The smirk widens enough to show fangs, and then her entire form erupts into a column of flame.

Jaune staggers back, a reflex to the incredible breath of heat that slams into him. The anger and defiance in his face has given way to horror, his features only stretching as Cinder approaches him one casual step at a time. The flames coil around her, follow her, and the colors steadily wax brighter and brighter, almost white. He retreats as far as he can, his back to the still cool stone wall behind him, but he can feel them heating up as Cinder continues to advance. She doesn't stop until she's close enough to make him sweat, so he can see the budding features of the creature that hides beneath her skin; horns, tusks, and the dying sun at the back of her throat.

Somehow he finds the courage to steel himself. "I know you need me."

Her breathy, laughing exhale is full of sparks and embers. "Indeed."

"You're not going to kill me."

"Oh no, but it's adorable that you think taking your life is the worst I could do." The fire recedes from one clawed hand, revealing uncharred, pristine flesh that she reaches up and aligns with his jaw. She's amused he doesn't flinch away, and is certain he wished he had when those finger hook around his neck. That amusement only grows as she sees the dumb waving of his hands in her peripherals, knowing he likely wants to grab her arm in resistance.

"I have slain _Hunters_ , I have beheaded _gods_ , I have broken _Dragons_ , and I will slaughter a _legion_ of lycan mongrels," The heat in her palm steadily builds by degrees, passed the point of painful for a human. There's room enough in her grip for him to scream, but it's interesting to her that he doesn't. " _If that's what it takes._ Rest assured, killing you is the _least_ of your concerns."

And he believes her, dead to rights he has no doubt. Maybe it was the fear, maybe it was staring into that face through a veil of reflexive tears from the scalding pain below his chin; whatever the reason, he just chances a nod and hopes she understands it for what it is.

Cinder releases him, dousing the inferno around her and leaving nothing but a swarm of brief embers and smoke. She watches him squirm against the wall, reeling in his pain, panting and doing all he physically can without touching the almost glowing red handprint across his throat.

"Now," she pushes the creases down from her clothes with a leveling sigh, a coil of smoke passing her lips, "I'm sure you need some time to collect yourself, so, by all means, make yourself at home. If you should need anything, seeing as you and the Faunus know each other, feel free to ask her. We'll begin working tomorrow."

" _Fuck you_." he forces out, his voice broken and full of sharp edges.

"Come now, have some class, we've only just met." she giggles, turning away from him and starting for the door only to pause in the doorway. Looking back at him her eyes are still bright with fire. "See you in the morning. And don't try to leave the grounds, there are things in those woods even _I'm_ wary of." And Cinder blows him a kiss before disappearing from the doorway.

For a time he's simply frozen there, seemingly plastered to the wall, but once the shock-driven adrenaline ebbs he slides to the floor. His hands shake in front of him before covering his face, his eyes screwed shut in the futile hope that when he opens them again that he'll be anywhere but here.

 

_(III)_

Raven and her brother share a great many things other than appearance, namely a dislike for certain planes. Neither of them particularly enjoyed traveling to Remnant, but by the same token, neither of them ignores a proper summons. Especially since perhaps a dozen...she hesitated to refer to them all as  _people_ due to lack of accuracy -a dozen  _beings_ across the planescape could actually call on her this way, and none of them would bother to do so unless it was important.

The abject shock on Raven's face is fully appreciated by Willow Schnee, the first person the Huntmaster makes eye contact with after stepping through the shadowy portal into the immaculate whiteness of the Witch's office. The next set of eyes she meets are silver, more familiar, and belong to a stern-looking shaman she knows well enough to let her confusion dissipate. They hold the black feather with the blood red runes painted along its spine, the sigils glowing as the summoning magic resolves. Still, some of her uncertainty remains, manifesting in the lift of a single pitch brow. "What is this about?"

"One of my former charges was attacked last night, nearly killed, and her mate was abducted." Billy wastes no time. "She described one of the attackers as wearing a white mask shaped like a demon."

Raven's brows level again, her heart hitching behind her ribs. For the moment she remains silent, watching as Billy tucks the feather away in their shirt pocket, but continues moving to pull a bright red bag around to open the zipper.

"I recovered this." They pull out the pieces of the silver arrow, the ornate and unique head resting on the meat of their palm, spattered with flecks of dried blood. "Do you recognize it?"

Her jaw clenches like her fist at her side. "I do."

"Does it belong to Cinder Fall?"

Crimson eyes cut to the White Witch, thinning at the smugness in the other woman's face. "It does. But how do you know that name?"

"Well, while you've been dealing with the Hunt's red tape, my daughter decided to head an investigation of her own. She's had the suspicion of Yang missing for more than a week now, and with the Belladonna girl's help, they were able to find where she was last seen  _and_ who she was with."

"Taiyang told me. Where is Weiss now?"

"Naturally, she and Blake followed the trail."

Raven's face shifts into something severe. " _What_ ?"

"Gods willing they're in the Midden as we speak."

Raven scowls. "You  _fool_ . Why didn't you contact the Hunt first?"

"So we could sit on our hands with you? I think not." Willow counters, a certain tightness between her brows at Raven's insult. "I don't know if you can grasp this concept, but my daughter _loves_ Yang, and when you love someone, _you_ _do everything within your power to keep them safe._ And when you can't do that, you do everything within your power to _crush_ whoever does them harm."

"Love won't crush Cinder. Love means nothing to an Efreet." Raven feels a vain satisfaction in the way Willow pales. "You should consider yourself lucky if your daughter is even still alive."

"You let an _Efreet_ into the Hunt?" Billy gapes.

"There are no laws against it, and it wasn't entirely my decision. In any case it's irrelevant."

"Gods," Willow exhales, eyes wide. "Then...Weiss...she isn't ready,"

Raven, in some small way, wants to feel sympathy for the Witch, but seeing her afraid gives her too much satisfaction.

"How much did you know, Huntmaster?" Billy's shock has an edge to it now, a touch of anger. "Before now, how much did you know about this?"

"Enough to suspect a Hunter was involved, but little else. I've been chasing these shadows for nigh on two years, since the Minister was beheaded."

"And how long have you known about Cinder?"

"Barely a day."

"And you didn't think any of us might need to know there's a rogue Hunter prowling the planescape?"

"And what would you have done about it? Likely she's slipped back to the Midden where she is beyond _anyone's_ reach, and unless another Gatekeeper is found, that will not change any time soon."

"The Khan, the heads of the Cabals, the Celestial Council," Billy stammers a little, mentally staggered by the shear volume of supernatural leaders they know, "Did you tell _any of them_?"

"Once I had confirmation, I sent Qrow out. Him and Taiyang both have been making rounds to spread the word."

Billy grumbles, frustrated. "But why wait so long to voice your suspicions? An awol Hunter is nothing to keep secret."

"Well," Willow intercedes, "Raven isn't telling the entire truth." She feels the smallest of tremors when Billy's eyes cut to her. "She has a personal stake in this, it's not just about duty as she would want you to believe." She feels that same shiver again, stronger, when Raven turns those piercing crimson eyes on her again.

"So what _is_ the whole truth?"

Raven is silent, eyes moving from one to another but settling on the shaman. She can't miss the folding of their meaty arms, the way one thumb presses into a tattoo near their elbow. She recognizes it, knows what it does, and secedes to its influence. "Cinder took my daughter."

Silvery brows lift, like Billy's thumb away from the tattoo. "So...Yang?" they turn to look at Willow, accepting her nod of confirmation. They knew the Huntmaster had a child, and knew the Xiao Long clan rather well, but they didn't know the two were connected. "That's why you didn't come forward? Did you thinking moving too soon would put her in danger?"

"She's likely in enough danger already, but yes. It was the only thing I could think to do." Because she knows she's no good at being a mother, but she had to do something to sate that maternal pain in her chest, something the quell the impotence it makes her feel.

Billy snorts, their tone softening a little. "And you call _her_ a fool." they nod towards Willow, clearly unfazed by Raven's explanation. "Though color me impressed that you'd jeopardize your position like this."

The Huntmaster cringes briefly.

"Have you done anything at all, then?"

"Qrow is searching for another Gatekeeper, and I dispatched Madam Goodwitch but have yet to hear back from her. At the moment, that's all I have."

Billy just nods, eyes to the floor. "And you believe Cinder stole the Cornerstone?"

"I do."

"And I believe she was responsible for whatever went down last night, and it wasn't a contract."

"How so?"

"No bodies, although there certainly should have been. What I could make of the scene, someone was trying to get away, and it wasn't my girl. She was giving chase, and if it was a hit on her mate, he'd surely be dead but there's no trace of him. None of his blood was at the scene...but a Changeling's was."

Raven's jaw reflexively clenches, teeth groaning under the pressure. Still, she focuses on the relevant things. "But what would Cinder want with -what I assume to be- a mundane man?"

" _Mostly_ mundane." Billy elaborates curtly. "He's the only son of a Witch, the seventh of eight children, and looks practically nothing like his mother or sisters. There's rarity in that. You know the saying,"

"Rarity follows rarity." Willow finishes.

"And he's warded, mostly by accident as fate would have it."

Raven's dusky brows quirk. "I don't understand."

"Yang put a blessing on him to cure a werewolf's bite, but it never faded. It became a ward on its own."

Raven's nose wrinkles. "That's...unheard of."

"So whatever is up with him, Cinder wants it, and I for-," Billy abruptly stops, one hand smacking their back pocket where their scroll buzzes mutely. They're silent for the few seconds it takes to read the text. "I'm sorry, Madam Schnee, but that was the surgeon."

"Of course, by all means." Willow only nods. "Consider yourself on contract then; seeing as Mr. Nikos is an employee, you'll act as the company liaison to the Hunt until such time as he's found."

"Yes, madam."

"And assure Mrs. Nikos that if there's anything I can do for her,"

"Of course. Good day, madam."

 

Raven will follow Billy out of the office and into a long, sunlit corridor, not bothering to excuse herself seeing as she doesn't owe Willow such courtesy. It takes some effort to catch up, but eventually she walks beside the hulking Faunus.

"I want to question your charge." She says.

"Too bad." They reply firmly.

"Like you can stop me."

"In fact, Huntmaster, I can." Billy pauses when they reach the end of the hall, long enough to tap the button for the elevator and wait for the chime of the bell. The two step on, though Raven is slow to do so, seeing as she only partly knows what it is. The two stand across from each other. "My girl went through hell last night, only just got out of major surgery. She's severely compromised, her mate isn't here to speak for her, so that responsibility falls to me, and I say _no_. You know how these checks and balances work."

Raven scowls. She hates having the law dictated to her like this. "But the longer you wait, the more her memory might deteriorate. Maybe she knows something that can help us."

"Help us do what? You said it yourself, the Midden is closed, so unless your brother pulls through, all we have to do is twiddle our thumbs and wait for a miracle."

For a moment Raven stares them down as best she can, seeing as she has to look up, seething. Then her expression softens. "What if Cinder took Tag?" something in her revels at the way the shaman's face suddenly tightens, nostrils flaring with a singular snort as they break eye contact. "After all this time it's just as good a lead as any, wouldn't you want to take it?"

They cross their arms and take a deep breath, appearing to shove down whatever they were feeling. "Even if that's true, if Tag _is_ still alive that means she's held on for this long. She can make it until we get there...she's tough."

Raven smirks, actually smirks and shrugs. "I was almost certain you would have caved at that."

"I bet you did." Billy clearly doesn't share the jest. "And that's why I took the last year or so off. With that being said, you're not coming within earshot of that poor kid any time soon. You'll get your chance, just not today."

Raven's grimacing again, her smirk murdered in cold blood at her failed cunning. "Then may I go?" Because with that particular summoning spell, she can't return to Agharta without the summoner's leave.

"By all means. And try to keep in touch better in the future, you don't have to do this by yourself. We're all in this, let us help you."

No decipherable response of any kind, just a swirling mass of blood and shadows that swallows the woman up and dissipates, leaving no trace as the elevator stops and the doors slide open.

 

 

Author's note: I know I say this a lot, but this chapter felt pretty trashy. Still, it needed to get out. Writing hasn't got much easier, but I'm going to finish this. At the very least I hope you folks are having fun, even if it isn't my best work. I don't know what's going on, every time I have a string of thoughts together, I sit down and they just fly apart and I forget half of it. Ah well. See you lot next time, enjoy!

 


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